


The Fool

by anna-phora (xanaphorax)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hufflepuff, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Romance, She has a boyfriend anyway, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanaphorax/pseuds/anna-phora
Summary: After getting tangled up with the Weasley Twins during the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Wren Collings’ life takes a turn for the chaotic. It threatens everything she has going for her, but she’s not convinced that’s entirely a bad thing.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been in the works since 2006. I have 80+ pages of scenes written, but of course they’re all over the place. I cannot wait to share this with you and I hope you love it. Let me know what you think!

Being woken up by a Hufflepuff was undoubtedly the _worst_ possible way to wake up.

Especially when said Hufflepuff was an unapologetically overenthusiastic morning person.

“Good morning sunshine!” The sing-songy voice permeated the peaceful quiet of the morning, effectively putting an end to Wren’s enjoyment of these early hours in the way they were meant to be enjoyed—in bed, asleep.

_Godric, help me._

Calling on her house’s founder had rarely, if ever, done any good in situations like this. This wasn’t an issue of nerve; it was a matter of endurance. Because the thing about Hufflepuffs, and especially _this_ Hufflepuff, was that they never gave up. Ever. Even when you practically begged them to. Even when you very clearly and explicitly begged them to. 

“Time to get up!” The last word was sung with such obnoxious cheer that the sound shot straight through Wren’s desperate plea to the universe, killing all hope of a few more tranquil minutes tucked away under the covers.

Wren made a muffled sound of disapproval and pulled the covers up higher, rolling away from her cousin’s present attempt to shake her awake. “Geroff,” she mumbled into her pillow. “I’m up.”

“If you were up, your feet would be on the floor,” Norah shot back the family rule. Apparently there had been one too many close calls with the Hogwarts Express (which, for the record, was only _two_ ), and her family had decided to institute criteria for whether or not Wren was, in fact, “up.” Quite frankly, it was a load of dragon dung.

Wren shifted under the covers, allowing one leg to drop with a _thud_ to the floor. “There. I’m half up." 

"Not good enough,” Nora prodded. “Breakfast is ready and we’re waiting on you; _come on._ ”

Wren simply let out a grunt as a response.

“Alright then.” The words came out too light and dispassionate to mean anything good. Brain still cloudy with sleep, Wren attempted to piece together Nora’s next move when she felt her cousin take a firm grip of her leg.

“I’m up!” Wren shot up, her heart pounding against her chest from the near encounter with the floor. She should have known Nora would resort to drastic measures. Hufflepuff.

“Good!” Nora chirped, clasping her hands together in front of herself as Wren ran a hand over her face. The other girl allowed Wren the decency of a few moments to collect herself, even if she didn’t move from her spot next to the bed. Slightly calmer, Wren turned to face her cousin who was already fully dressed.

“That’s my jumper,” Wren mumbled, punctuating the sentence with a small thump as her hand dropped into her lap.

“Is it?” Nora asked, innocently. “I suppose if you had woken up and gotten dressed an hour ago like you were supposed to, I wouldn’t have had time to pinch it." 

"I’m getting to it,” Wren yawned.

“About as quickly as a flobberworm. Let’s go,” she clapped her hands, and Wren glowered, kicking the sheets off and pushing herself out of bed. Even Hufflepuffs weren’t _this_ Hufflepuff. No, this was specifically a Nora thing. “ _Now_ you’re up,” her cousin said, flashing a bright smile. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re completely insufferable in the mornings?” Wren grumbled, pushing past her cousin and walking over to the dresser.

“It’s come up a few times over the years,” Nora replied, her grin intensifying if anything. “Anyway, you get dressed, and I’ll go down to try to save some bacon and let your Mum know that we won’t need to waste a firecracker after all.”

“A _what_?" 

"See you downstairs!” Nora called over her shoulder, darting out the door with a trill of laughter and leaving behind a moderately confused and still very sleepy Wren.

It took a few minutes to sort through the clothes of her dresser before ultimately turning to unpack her trunk and find something worth wearing. As Nora had already sifted through, the formerly neat piles were decidedly more difficult to navigate, but at last Wren was able to extract something half decent to wear. 

Wren made her way down to the kitchen finding the rest of her family gathered around the table already well into the meal despite what Nora said about waiting. She slid into the chair eyeing Nora who grinned brightly at her. 

“I’ll have that back at Hogwarts,” she grumbled, and Nora turned back to her plate, piling eggs onto it. 

“Of course,” Nora dismissed, confirming Wren’s fear that she was going to have to resort to magical means if she ever wanted to see her lilac jumper again. Rather than fixating on the loss, she turned to the food and began filling her plate as well. 

“Where’s Uncle Jonathan?” Wren asked, picking up a few pieces of toast and putting them on her plate before searching the table for the marmalade. Nora passed the jar to her silently. 

Aunt Kathleen looked up from the Daily Prophet across the table, her eyes taking a second to focus on her niece and resituate herself in the world of the now. “He got called into work early this morning. They think they might have a lead on the Riot." 

Wren nodded, turning her attention back to her plate and wishing a bit that she hadn’t asked after her uncle. She didn’t want to think about the Quidditch World Cup ever again. Despite the fact that it had happened over a week ago, she could still remember her lungs burning and her skin prickling against the night–the flames of the tents around her not providing any warmth. She could still hear the screams and the jeers and the sickening _crack_ and Nora’s hand tugging at hers. 

"I hope so,” Wren’s mother’s voice snapped Wren out of her unwanted flashback, and she turned her attention to her mum who was sitting herself down at the table with a refilled cup of coffee. “It’ll be nice to have that bloody woman put her nose in something else.”

Wren’s eyes darted to her father for comment, but he was already pouring over his own work at the table. Apparently the cup had disrupted the flow of International Trading as well leaving him and her uncle who was in Law Enforcement with equally big messes to deal with. 

Aunt Kathleen tsked and shook her head. “I don’t see why they still publish her wretched articles. She lost her credibility years ago with all respectable wizards.” She was of course referencing the infamous Rita Skeeter article in which the columnist alleged that Cordeilla Crouch’s ill health was due to small doses of poison Bartemius Crouch fed her in hopes of killing her off so he could run away with his secret mistress, Amelia Bones. It had caused some commotion at the Ministry and had forever turned the family against Rita Skeeter. Not only did Uncle Jonathan and Wren’s father work closely with the accused pair, but Amelia had also been a prefect for Ravenclaw while Aunt Kathleen and Wren’s mother were in school and had been like an older sister to the pair. As such, she was forever referred to as “that bloody woman” around the table and worse when the adults believed Wren and Nora weren’t listening.

“Sadly, the world is not full of respectable witches and wizards. The Cup made that _very_ clear,” Wren’s mother said, setting her cup down.

Wren’s stomach churned, and she turned swiftly to Nora. “I don’t suppose we’ll have any classes together this year, do you?" 

Nora, bless her, did not seem to suffer from conversational whiplash, and instead tilter her head mulling it over. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, probably. As long as it fits in my schedule, I want to continue with it. I got the OWL for it." 

"Speaking of classes,” her mother said, rising from the table and moving into the living room. There was some seconds of sorting before she came back in, holding a dark green leather bound book in her hand. “Don’t forget to put this in your trunk.” Wren took the book, placing it in her lap, already feeling prematurely embarrassed to have to study from one of her mother’s books this year. 

_Moon Plants for the Common Wizard_ , was the first successful herbology text from her mother. It had been a best seller and led to her hit series describing astronomy’s effect on herbology. It was the books, more than her unusual plants shop in Diagon Alley that provided the bulk of the family’s income and had drawn some notice to Wren during her first year at Hogwarts after she knew the correct answer to every question asked in her very first Herbology class. The teasing from other students had been mild–for few truly cared about Herbology–but had still been enough to make her slightly wary of class this year. 

Aunt Kathleen pulled down the sleeve of her robe. “We’d best be getting on to King’s Cross,” she remarked. “Don’t want to have to run across the station again.” She cast a significant look towards Wren who glowered. 

“Alright, pack up the rest in a napkin, Wren,” her mother said, waving her wand so that the table began to clear itself. Wren snatched another piece of bacon off the plate that floated by her on the way to the counter, and made the resolution that next year, for the first and last time, she would wake up with plenty of time to eat her entire breakfast at the table with the rest of her family. 

* * *

Wren followed Nora down the train as her cousin eagerly pushed her way back in search of an open compartment. As they peered into each open door they passed, they were met with the familiar sights of back to school: friends reuniting with a hug or clasped hands, two younger boys chatting excitedly to one another while showing off pet toads, an obvious first year hung out the window, waving goodbye to her parents. 

Wren smiled, remembering herself and Nora jockeying for space in the window their own first year, desperately waving and shouting goodbye to their parents. That was back when they were certain they’d end up in Hufflepuff together. That they would be dormmates with beds next to each other and would stay up until the early hours of the morning, whispering secrets to one another. Wren’s sorting into Gryffindor had come as a shock to them both, and while the first term had been rough, over time they made their own friends and slowly but surely became more cousins than sisters, more friends than best friends. 

“Found one!” Nora chirped, dipping into an empty compartment. Wren followed, and the two girls helped each other stow their trunks before settling down into seats across from one another. 

“So,” Nora started, and having been on the other end of this word in that tone so many times, Wren’s stomach knotted a bit at the sound of it. “I assume Simon will be joining us once again this year?”

“After the Prefects meeting,” Wren nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Well, we should come up with a signal for when you want me to leave. Maybe a code word. Like Omnioculars?” Nora suggested. 

Wren hated asking questions she didn’t want to know the answer to, but it seemed unavoidable if she was to get to the bottom of Nora’s thinking. “And why would I want you to leave?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me around when you tell him.”

And there it was. The other shoe.

“I’m not telling him,” Wren shook her head, turning to look out the window as the train began to pull out of the station, the faces of parents and siblings blurring together before finally the carriage broke free of the station.

“Wren, he should know,” Nora pushed as they hurtled through fields of summer grass and towards their home for the upcoming colder months. 

“You’re making this seem like a bigger deal than it is. There’s no reason for him to know. It’s not like–” there was a knock at the compartment door before it slid open. Alicia Spinnet glanced around the compartment. 

“Oh! Sorry, I was…looking for Angelina and Katie. Do you happen to know if they’re further along?” she asked. Wren and Nora both shook their heads, and Alicia nodded, a look of exasperated disappointment on her face. “A few first years took our usual compartment, and now I can’t seem to find where they’ve gone off to.”

“You’re welcome to sit with us,” Nora offered, gesturing to the mostly empty compartment. “Plenty of room." 

Alicia smiled but shook her head. "Thanks, but I’m going to keep trying. I’ll circle back if it’s a lost cause though. You two have a good summer?” she asked. Both Nora and Wren nodded their heads at this question. 

“And you?” Wren asked, and Alicia tilted her head side to side.

“Not bad. Bit boring towards the end though. Almost glad to be back just for the other people,” she smiled. “Anyway, see you round.” Alicia disappeared out the door, sliding it shut. 

Wren looked back at Nora, thankful for Alicia’s diversion and the opportunity to change the subject. “That was a bit weird, right?”

“A bit, yeah,” Nora agreed, allowing Wren to move the conversation away from Simon and towards hypothesizing whether or not Alicia really was looking for Angelina and Katie, someone else, and whether Wren would be able to pry it out of her dormmate later.

The conversation moved from there the way it did between two people who knew each other well and spoke often. It was always easy talking to Nora on the train ride _to_ Hogwarts–where it tended to get stinted and awkward was the train ride home. As it was, they joked about people from the village, came up with scandalous ideas for Rita Skeeter’s next article, and practically plundered the tea trolley when it came along.

Wren was halfway through her third pumpkin pasty when a collection of voices could be heard from the corridor. “The prefects meeting must be over,” Wren commented, quickly finishing off the rest of the snack.

“Oh! That’s Cedric,” Nora said, standing up from her seat, wrappers falling off her lap and onto the floor in her haste towards the door. Wren stifled a laugh as Nora slid the door open, hanging half out of the compartment; _of course_ she’d hear Cedric’s voice over the rest of the prefects. 

“Hullo Ced!” Nora greeted, leaning back into the compartment as Cedric joined her in the doorway. 

“Hi Nora. Wren,” he waved over Nora’s shoulder and Wren waved back with a smile. Cedric had been one of Nora’s first friends at Hogwarts, and while her cousin had started fancying him early on–it wasn’t until his third year that Cedric really grew into his looks and Wren took any notice of him at all. Now it was almost impossible _not_ to notice Cedric with his beautiful dark hair, impressive cheekbones, and sparkling grey eyes. Plus, he was _built_. “Good to see you. I was hoping you made it out ok." 

They didn’t need to ask what “it” was. It was understood: The Cup. The last time either of the girls had seen Cedric Diggory was the morning of the Quidditch World Cup. They had run into him bringing water back to his father and had a good few minutes of conversation before Mr. Diggory started going on about Hogwarts Quidditch and Nora had to haul Wren off before she said something she’d regret. And that night–Nora had been looking for him when _it_ happened. 

Nora nodded, her mood shifting from its normal state of aggressively bubbly to something a bit more somber. "Yeah, we’re fine. It was a scare though." 

"Yeah,” Cedric breathed. “I’ve never seen my dad look so shaken.” The three sat in the silence after the statement each sifting through their own thoughts. 

Cedric broke the silence first. “Anyway, I have first patrol of the corridor. I just wanted to check in and say hi. See you at dinner?” This question was clearly for Nora, and Wren had a very difficult time _not_ making a face at her cousin. 

“Of course,” Nora grinned, moving back to her seat. 

“Bye then. Bye Wren,” he nodded at Wren who waved at him once more as both girls chorused a goodbye. 

Wren turned to face her cousin with raised eyebrows. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” Nora hissed, but there was no real heat behind her words, and her lips were already tugging up in a smile. 

“He just wanted to check in. He was hoping _you_ made it out ok,” Wren teased.

Nora sighed, slouching back into her chair. “He’s probably just being nice. He’s too nice. It’s impossible to tell." 

"He took time out of his patrol for you,” Wren reached forward, poking Nora’s knee. Nora shook her off. 

“Yes, a whole two minutes. How promising." 

Before Wren could continue to pester Nora about her crush, the door to the compartment slid open, and Simon walked in. 

Wren always got butterflies whenever Simon walked into a room. For as handsome as Cedric might have been, it was a wonder that Simon didn’t have as many girls hanging off of him. He was proper fit, objectively speaking, with his bronze hair that curled up slightly in the front, dark blue eyes and the most dazzling dimpled smile that Wren had ever seen. He was gorgeous and brilliant and _hers_. 

Wren beamed up at him as he crossed to sit next to her, cupping her cheek lightly as he bent down to give her a kiss. It was short–too short for Wren’s liking, but she was comforted by him sitting next to her and throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Hello, you." 

"Hi,” Wren leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“Good summer?” he asked, rubbing her own shoulder lightly with his hand, and Wren hummed in agreement.

“Would have been better with you,” she remarked. 

“You should have come to Istanbul with me. It was incredible.” He kissed the top of her head for good measure, and across from her, Nora rolled her eyes grandly. 

Wren lifted her head off of Simon’s shoulder, as her boyfriend turned to face Nora. His face creased in confusion. “Is that…your jumper?" 

Nora threw her hands up. "Fine, I’ll give it back when we get changed into robes." 

Wren pressed a kiss to Simon’s cheek. "Thank you, love. I thought it was gone forever." 

"You can’t be letting people take your things,” he shook his head at her admonishingly, and Wren’s cheeks tinged pink. 

“I’m not _people_ , I’m her family,” Nora corrected, hotly. “And I was just borrowing it." 

Simon opened his mouth to respond, but Wren cut him off, shoving a handful of chocolate frogs towards him. "I got you some from the trolley,” she said, shooting a quick glare at Nora who sank back into her seat. Simon paused, seeming to consider whether his retort was worth saying, before ultimately giving up the last word and plucking a chocolate frog out of Wren’s hand. He ripped it open, popping the frog into his mouth and holding it there for a second so Wren could see it bounce against the inside of his cheeks. She giggled, and Simon finished off the treat, the mood in the car restored. 

“Bring anything good to read?” Simon asked, and Wren nodded, pulling the two books she’d extracted from her trunk out from under her seat, offering Simon his choice between _The Hunting of the Snark_ and _The Corsair_. She was unsurprised as Simon took _The Corsair_ out of her hands and opened it. He’d been a fan of Lord Byron since she first brought him a book of poems from the village shop. 

Wren sank back against him so the two could read together, only moving from the spot after Nora’s huffing and noises of boredom got to her. After offering her cousin the other book, the compartment fell into a companionable silence for the next few hours. 

Until Nora shut her book with an audible _thck_. Wren looked up from her own page, watching as her cousin set the book aside and drew a deck of cards from her pocket. Nora looked up, catching Wren’s gaze and smiled pleadingly. Wren sighed, drawing herself out from under Simon’s arm who finally looked up at what was happening. 

“Are you really going to ask to read my cards?” Wren asked over the faint swishing of cards shuffling. “You’ve read them a dozen times. I’m surprised you don’t have my fortune memorized by now.”

“That was for the summer,” Nora shook her head. “We don’t know what your school year will look like.”

“It’s going to look like the shelves of the library and piles of school work,” Simon remarked. “NEWT level classes are right nasty." 

"Yes, thank you for your input,” Nora said crisply before turning back to Wren. “I’ve haven’t been able to practise all summer.”

“You received _two_ letters from the Ministry! Your mum threatened to snap your wand!”

“Yes, but that was early July. It’s practically September now,” Nora dismissed, her hands stilling. “Please.”

Wren could feel Simon’s disdainful look as she met Nora’s gaze. But, she had already made up her mind the minute she saw the cards. 

“We’re not doing the same one as last time,” Wren shook her head, and Nora beamed at her cousin, resuming the shuffling. 

“Oh, I like that one." 

"It took nearly a half hour!” Wren protested. Despite the fact that they still had over six hours left of their journey, she did not feel like spending the majority of it having her cousin make up a future for her. 

“That was the Celtic Cross. There’s a lot to decipher there,” Nora defended, cutting the deck for a final time.

“Three this time. Those are your most accurate anyway.” Wren wasn’t sure if Nora could take credit for being good or for having better luck when she only needed to manipulate 3 cards into a story that fit Wren’s life versus 10 cards. It was hard to imagine her cousin, who had gotten O.W.L.S. in all of her subjects (including Os in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes), seemed fixated on something as soft as Divination. It was Aunt Kathleen’s greatest bane, and she blamed her mother for corrupting Nora during the holidays they spent together.

“Not much use for practising if I’m already good at them,” Nora grumbled but nevertheless she reached the cards out and placed them in Wren’s cupped hands. “We’ll do a past, present, future, see if Simon’s right about the school year.”

“I know I’m right. I was in sixth last year,” Simon retorted. Nora, thankfully, ignored him.

Wren picked up the deck and held it out to Nora who, producing her wand from her pocket, muttered a few spells and tapped the cards rhythmically.The cards shuffled themselves once, twice, three times before settling in Wren’s hands once more. 

"Now ask,“ Nora prompted. 

Wren bent down to whisper to the cards, "What will my school year look like?” i ignoring Simon’s scoff to her right. She leaned back, allowing Nora to tap the cards three more times before waving her wand in a circular motion. The first time she had ever done this, Wren had allowed herself to be slightly amazed to see the cards leap out of her hands and arrange themselves in a fanned out circle. The small thrill of the magic and Nora’s increased showmanship still caused Wren’s heart to beat a little faster as three cards slid out and arranged themselves in a nice pile in the center. 

Nora looked up from the arrangement on the table, eyes bright. “Ready?" 

"It’s just my past isn’t it? I’ve already lived it?" 

Nora rolled her eyes. "It’s not _just_ your past. It’s the past that explains who you are right now. Think of this card as _you_." 

"I always get the same thing." 

"That’s how you know it works,” Nora said, flipping the card and once more the Eight of Swords stared up at Wren. Nora’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Do I need to explain it again?" 

"I got it by the fourth time,” Wren dismissed. According to the cards, she hated conflict. It didn’t take Divination to make that clear. Nora told her it was her 9 soul urge. To Wren it was just because she was so _bad_ at it. “The next one’s going to be Six of Cups, see–” Wren looked down to the card that Nora had just flipped and paused. “Oh." 

Nora gasped excitedly. "The future is here!” She looked up at Wren with an expectant grin, but the other girl’s eyes were still focused on the card.

_The Fool._

She had drawn this card as many times as the Eight of Swords, but never in the present position. From the train ride home last year it had always been Eight of Swords, Six of Cups, The Fool. Despite herself, Wren could feel her heart start to beat faster in anticipation. This was all just a silly trick–hardly anything to put real stock on–after all, Nora admitted herself that the future was flexible and ever changing. But still.

“Something big is going to happen,” Nora said, already fingering the future card. “Life changing." 

"It just means we’re entering a new phase,” Wren shook her head. “You know, like being NEWT students now?" 

Nora deflated with disappointment. "That makes sense.” She looked at the cards as if they had betrayed her. “NEWT classes are life changing I suppose." 

"So the cards are saying I’m right, interesting,” Simon said, thoughtfully and Wren chuckled. “Maybe there is something to Divination after all." 

Nora cast him a sour look and flipped over the last card. She cocked her head to the side, looking at it. Her eyes flicked over to the Eight of Swords and then back at the new card. _Five of Wands._ "Well, this should be a delight for you,” she quipped. 

Wren eyed the card, “Am I going to get bludgeoned?”

“Oh, my dear cousin, the intricacies of the cards elude you,” Nora said, putting on her best Professor Trewlaney voice. “The Five of Wands means that you’re going to face an unavoidable conflict." 

"I want a new reading,” Wren demanded, and Nora laughed. 

“It could be a schedule conflict,” Simon offered. “That happened to Edmund Whittle last year. Since the classes are so small, they only get offered at certain times." 

"But I _need_ all of the classes I want to take,” Wren’s brow furrowed. 

“They’re just cards,” Simon dismissed, reaching forward to smooth out her brow with his thumb. “If it were real magic it’d be a required subject." 

Nora opened her mouth, almost definitely to argue, but was stopped as Simon spoke again, looking at his watch. "Is that really the time? I have corridor duty," he said leaning forward to kiss Wren again. "I might not see you until tomorrow. I promised Hector I’d meet up with him after patrol." 

Wren nodded, watching him leave the compartment. 

"He didn’t even say hello to me,” Nora said angrily from across the table. 

She should have known this was coming. If she had half a brain she would have claimed she had to go to the bathroom and given her cousin some time to cool off. That might have also given her a few more seconds with Simon. Wren sighed, turning to face Nora. “He got distracted by the jumper.”

“Yes, he picked a fight first thing. How very him." 

Wren leaned her head against the back of the seat, staring up at the ceiling. "Can we not argue about him this year?" 

"He didn’t even ask you about the Cup!” Nora burst.

“I don’t want to talk about the Cup,” Wren said, softly, keeping her eyes focused on the panelled ceiling. If she looked at her cousin it might trigger another memory, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that along with this assault. 

“He didn’t know that. And even still, he could have at least checked in with you about it. Cedric did!" 

"Nora…” Wren started, but she did not get very far with her statement. 

“And why is he going to sit with Hector after his patrol. He hasn’t seen you all summer!" 

"Maybe he’s tired of you finding faults with everything he does!” Wren snapped, and Nora’s mouth clamped shut. Wren put her face in her hands, willing herself to calm down. Deep breaths. She moved her hands to her cheeks so she could look at Nora, who for her part, looked a little ashamed of herself. 

Wren watched as Nora visibly reigned in the comment she had prepared, pressing her lips together in a thin line. After a beat, she nodded, and picked up _The Hunting of the Snark_ again, and Wren finally felt as if she could breathe. Nora flipped back to her page, her eyes scanning the line for her place. “And I don’t like his shoes,” Nora remarked, before devoting the entirety of her attention to the book in front of her.

* * *

The rest of the ride took place without incident or argument, and true to her word Nora did hand back the jumper after the two girls changed into their robes. By the time the train rolled into the station at Hogsmeade, all of the tension had evaporated from the compartment and the two girls were smiling. At least, they were until they looked out to the pitch dark stormy weather. 

“This is going to be terrible, isn’t it?” Wren asked as the two girls joined the crowd of students out in the corridor, shuffling towards an exit. 

“Well, it probably won’t be pleasant,” Nora remarked, which was as much of a gloomy outlook that Wren would get from her cousin. 

They continued along the slow cortege with their peers, watching as each student paused for a second at the door before jumping down onto the platform and entering into the night. A strong wind picked up whipping Wren’s hair straight into Nora’s face as the two girls stood at the exit. It was for Nora’s sake more than her own readiness that Wren stepped off the train.

Both girls were correct: it was not pleasant; it was terrible.

Rain came down so heavily and quickly that Wren felt almost as if she was being drowned. It took less than a minute for her robes to be soaked through, an icy chill taking a hold of her bones. As she looked to Nora, her cousin’s teeth chattered as she braced herself against the weather to make their way towards the carriages. Wren snuck an arm through her cousin’s crossed arms, as if their linked strength made any of this more bearable. Indeed, as Nora’s shoe slipped against the slick surface of the platform, it made it mildly easier to keep her up. 

“Careful!” a voice called on Nora’s right, and Wren was distracted from getting a good look at who it was as someone else linked arms with her on her other side. Wren’s head whipped around, coming face to face with Fred Weasley.

Or George Weasley. Now more than ever it was impossible to tell. The twin grinned at her before bending around to look at Nora.

“There are some loose rocks and roots up ahead. If you think this part is hard, you’ll need all of the assistance you can get on those." 

"We all know how good you are on your feet,” the other winked at Nora. 

“I have to say, though. I wouldn’t mind playing the hero this time,” the one next to Wren–definitely Fred–bumped against her. She flushed, pushing back on the memory that she tried _very_ hard to ignore out of existence. Wren had asked her father to obliviate the entire night from her mind, and to her dismay he had taken it as a joke. 

“That would make it, what? Your second time ever getting someone out of trouble? Finally taken to Gryffindor then, have you?” Wren sassed back trying to ignore the fact that while the rest of her body very well might have been ice, her face was practically afire.

Both of the twins scoffed, gently guiding Wren and Nora so that they gave a loose cobblestone an altogether too wide berth. “We’ve never gotten anyone else into trouble!” George protested from Nora’s other side.

“Only ourselves,” Fred nodded in affirmation.

“What kind of boys do you take us for?" 

"Naughty?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows at Wren whose face grew even hotter as Nora laughed loudly.

The carriages finally drew into view, and Wren watched as students practically through themselves in to get out of the rain, not giving much thought as to who they were stuck with on the ride up to the castle. 

_Oh Merlin. Please, no._ Wren thought.

“So, have a pleasant summer?” Nora asked because of course she would attempt to start up normal conversation with the Weasley twins. Although, all things considered pretending as if they were friendly acquaintances and being escorted towards the horseless carriages was a normal thing might be a decent strategy.

The twins shared a look over Wren and Nora’s heads. “Not exactly,” Fred admitted. 

“Aside from the obvious disappointment, there were a few blunders." 

"Pity,” Nora remarked, slowing their progress as she reached her hands into her pockets. She produced a handful of wrapped sweets. “Toffee?”

Both of the boys plucked a silvery wrapped candy out of her hand, unwrapped it, and popped it into their mouth at nearly exactly the same time. “Told you there’d be a reward for helping out, Fred,” George said, the toffee clacking against his teeth as he spoke.

“Toffee wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, George." 

The carriages now before them, Wren felt confident enough to unlink her arm from Fred’s and Nora’s, and head towards a door, tugging it open. A few second years peered up at her as she clambered in turning at the door. "Thank you for the escort. See you at the feast." 

She sank back into the chair as Nora gave a slightly longer and significantly more polite goodbye. Finally, her cousin entered, closing the door behind her and settled into the seat across from Wren, staring at her with eyebrows raised.

"Not a word," Wren warned.

For once Nora listened.


	2. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, the chapters are all named after applicable tarot cards because who doesn't love good foreshadowing.

Wren wasn’t sure who was right, if it was Simon or the cards or her gut feeling about this year: all she knew for sure was that NEWT classes, and not the Triwizard Tournament, would be the death of her.

The last part was a bit of a disappointment, not so much that she wanted to die in a blaze of glory, but she would have at least liked the chance. Sadly, her June birthday saw to the fact that she would be a supporter and not a competitor.

Her small silver lining (more dull grey than a true silver) was that it was one less thing to worry about on top of her classes. McGonagall’s warning when passing over her time table that this year would have a “demanding workload” was apparently code for “grueling affair with death itself.”

Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed fixated on killing her through the traditional means of excessive school work, but the rest seemed to approach her death in a more “hands on” manner.

Herbology seemed intent on strangulation as Professor Sprout has decided to begin with snargaluffs and venomous tentacula. Dodging the slippery and spiky spines soon became second nature.

Hagrid has decided to introduce them to, if not venomous, exceedingly dangerous animals. Currently the class was in the process of telling jokes to Fwoopers as an alternative method to the silencing charm. Leave it to Hagrid to find out that they just click their beak when laughing. Of course, the untraditional method had already put Kenneth Towler and Amina Qureshi into the hospital wing to treat their minor insanity. But, all things considered it was a nice reprieve.

For its part, Potions had started off the year with poisons and their antidotes, which while extremely fascinating was somewhat nerve racking. Wren was fairly certain that at some point Snape would attempt to poison her as the lone Gryffindor in NEWT level potions. That minor fear, in addition to her particular love for the magic, drove her to devoting most of her studying hours to the class.

Which seemed to come in handy now as Snape began to pass out his unannounced quiz to the class. To Wren’s surprise and mild relief, it was not a practical quiz but instead a written one. She assumed this was in an attempt to catch out students with trick questions which could otherwise be avoided as long as their potions worked.

In fact, as Wren reached question four, she was sure of it:

_I am called in to the Hospital Wing once again because a careless Herbology student has failed to properly cork the juice of a Venomous Tentacula and has gotten some on their skin. What condition do I find him in, and how will I cure it?_

She remembered this one as it had been a precaution Professor Sprout had failed to give them. She had simply instructed them not to let any get on their skin, and it was only in potions that Snape had revealed why. It had been more of a side comment in his lecture antidotes for the plant’s other means of attack: bite, spike, and venom.

_The student will be a bright shade of purple, and depending on how much juice he has come in contact with, complain of a faint burning sensation. The student should also feel quite embarrassed about their negligence. No antidote is truly needed except time which will hopefully make them more careful. Should you choose to cure them, however, the quickest effective cure would be a tincture of muddled fluxweed, shredded boomslang skin, and leech juice. The student will be extremely pale instead for a few days, but it might be preferable to the purple colour._

Wren reread her answer and felt that all loopholes were closed before she moved on to the next question.

_A student suddenly collapses in the middle of class during last hour and slowly turns to stone. She has come into contact with no plants or creatures and eaten and drank of nothing since lunch. What were they poisoned with and what is the antidote?_

Wren twirled her quill in her hands. Come into contact with nothing but suddenly turned into stone. They could have seen a basilisk? No, that only petrified people, it didn’t turn them into stone. Could they have a Gorgon run into their class? Unlikely unless the student was in the Grecian Isles. And that was a sudden turning. This student _slowly_ turned into stone.

It hit her, thinking of islands. Naghinbato Brew.

_The student was likely dosed with Naghinbato Brew during their lunch. This poison is undetectable aside from its slight tang and it takes approximately four hours to begin affecting the person poisoned. If the student was lucky enough to fall over with her mouth open, a Wiggenweld potion with some Mandrake roots brewed in after the salamander’s blood would reverse the effects. If not, an Adarna must be brought in to sing the student awake._

The remainder of the questions proved to be more and more tricky so that by the end Wren hoped for nothing but essays and practical exams for the rest of the year. The wording of each question proved difficult to navigate and at the end as she packed up her bag to leave for Defense Against the Dark Arts, she found herself casting a look at Snape who had begun to grade the quizzes and looked very much like he had just smelled something unpleasant.

Wren turned and headed out the door, eager to put the past hour behind her.

“Hey, Wren.” Quick footsteps caught up to her as Cedric appeared to her left. As the only Hufflepuff in Potions, the pair had taken to sitting together as the sole representatives of their respective houses. Wren had to admit, she hadn’t expected to see him on the first day of class. Nora had always claimed he was brilliant, but it had never quite shown through in any of the classes they had together. “How do you think it went?” Cedric asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Wren shook her head. “I don’t know. Has he even taught us any antidotes involving the dirt of a child’s grave? Or was that just a veiled threat?”

Cedric chuckled. “They use it against Amnetias.”

“Of course,” Wren moaned.

“What combination of poisons did you list as the components for that last one. I got Angel’s Trumpet Draught but what caused the vertigo?

"I said Syrup of Hellebore.”

Cedric winced. “Missed that one.”

“Your antidote could still work,” Wren shrugged, making her way up the stairs as Cedric walked behind her. The two of them pressed close to the walls as a flood of nervous looking Hufflepuff first-years descended down the stairs. Poor kids.

“Not likely,” Cedric said. “I used a creature-based remedy for the vertigo.”

“Ah well,” Wren sighed. “At least we’ll all get D’s together.” Cedric laughed at this and they continued the rest of the way up. The two exited the stairwell, heading towards the classroom that had been the talk of the school recently.

Quite frankly, Dumbledore should have hired an ex-Auror much sooner. Professor Lupin had been good–loads better than Lockhart or Quirrell, or Merlin-forbid, the ghoulish woman Wren had her first year–but Moody, he had _lived this._ His very first lesson for all of the students 4th through 6th year had been showing the Unforgiveable Curses. Today they were supposed to be practicing resisting the Imperius Curse. This was real education.

Wren entered the classroom, peeling off from Cedric who walked over towards where Nora was sitting with their other Hufflepuff friends. Instead Wren sat at the desk across the aisle from her dorm mates– Angelina and Alicia.

* * *

It was pitiful how quickly Wren had given into the Imperius Curse.

Unsurprisingly, Fred Weasley had been the longest hold out, beating George by a full twenty seconds. Wren suspected it had something to do with their natural inclination to ignore any given directive, but Lee Jordan hadn’t done as well as Angelina, and she was by far the most rule-abiding in their friend group.

Wren spent a good portion of the rest of her week practising fortifying herself against being Imperiused so as not to embarrass herself the next lesson.

Her timing wasn’t much better.

She largely chalked this up to mental exhaustion after the previous afternoon’s brutal double Potions lesson. Snape had clearly been seeking retribution for the class’s quiz scores. While Wren had managed to earn an E on hers, it seemed the rest of the class had not been so careful reading the questions if Snape’s rant about their inattention to the finer details and nuances of potion making was any indication.

So, after that lesson on Wednesday, being Imperiused on Thursday, and failing to to transfigure her raccoon on Friday, Wren felt completely spent and ill prepared for the mountain of homework awaiting her this weekend.

“I’m not going to survive NEWT classes,” Wren griped, laying her head down on her arm and giving her eyes a rest from her Charms textbook, instead gazing at a sideways Simon who looked up at her from across the table.

“You’re not going to die,” he shook his head, returning his eyes to his parchment. “Nora didn’t read it in your cards.”

Wren rolled her eyes at the sarcastic joke and propped her head back up on her palm. She might have been more annoyed at the lack of sympathy if it weren’t for the fact that she brought up how busy and stressed she was each time he saw her. It was a miracle he put up with her, really. She doubted anyone else would.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “But, a study break couldn’t hurt. We’ve got ten minutes ‘til dinner. Plenty of time to pack up and go to our corner…” She dropped her hand and leaned towards him. Simon looked up from his work again, this time giving her a small smile as he came forward and kissed her gently and far, far too briefly. He sat back into his chair, leaving Wren hovering over the center of the table.

“I wish we could,” he sighed, picking up his quill. “Truly.” His eyes raked down her face to the opening of her blouse. Wren’s face heated up, and she returned to her chair. “But I have to get this done. My weekend’s packed as is, and they rescheduled Wizard’s Chess Club to tonight so I already have less time than usual.”

Wren pouted “I know,” she said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just miss you is all. I haven’t seen you all week.”

It hadn’t been that either of them was avoiding the other–this year it just seemed like their time tables filled up too quickly with barely enough room to squeeze in each other. Each of their classes seemed to meet at opposite times so they never had a free period together. Time after dinner was largely devoted to clubs, homework, studying, and prefect duties with the weekends looking largely the same with the addition of Simon’s commitments to his Ravenclaw friends and tutoring of younger students. The only small bit of time they had together during the week was the hour right before dinner on Fridays.

“Wren,” Simon said, his voice taking on a slight edge. “I’m doing my best, ok?”

Wren’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to insinuate that he wasn’t. She wanted to whine about how Hogwarts seemed to be plotting against them, not whine about _him._

“It’s my seventh year. I sit NEWTs in June. If you think professors are giving you too much, just wait 'til next year. It’s all I can do to keep my head above the water. Between that and my duties,” he paused, running a hand through his hair and breaking off the sentence. “When we meet to study, all I can do is study. I want to spend time with you, but I can’t afford to just muck about this year.”

Wren nodded, sinking back into her chair. She needed to stop complaining. She needed to make the most of their time together. She needed to remember the lessons she had learned from her parents’ own marriage dynamic of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. That the Ravenclaw would always focus on the goals and achievements, but couldn’t function without the Gryffindor by their side. He did need her. He did want her. She had to just get over this.

This wasn’t last year.

For the remainder of their time together, the pair worked in silence. Or, at least, Simon worked. Wren re-read the same paragraph out of her textbook three different times. The silence continued even as they packed up to go to dinner and most of the way down the corridor.

Suddenly Simon tugged Wren by the arm to the side of the hall, the movement leading her to gasp in surprise. He stood before her for a second, looking down at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, dropping his hand from her arm to hold her hand. “I’m just stressed.”

Wren nodded quietly, her eyes also on his navy blue and white wing tips.

“I already hate how little we get to see each other, and when you brought it up–it felt like you were trying to make me feel guilty. And it worked.”

“I wasn’t trying,” Wren said, smally. “I was being honest.”

Simon tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up so he could press another kiss to her lips. This one was far harder than the one in the library, and soon his hands moved to her waist and behind her neck, pulling her against him. Wren’s brain had just caught up with the moment, allowing her to tug at the front of his robes when he broke away and leaned his forehead against hers. Tingles still raced to her nerve endings as her body buzzed from the kiss. Simon’s kisses always seemed to linger–or perhaps, echo was the right word. The sweetness of the library had lasted longer than the kiss, and the dizziness of this kiss…

“We’ll figure it out, ok?” Simon asked. “It’s the beginning of the year. Once things settle, we’ll find more time.”

Wren hummed in agreement, kissing him quickly and chastely before following him off towards dinner.

* * *

Weekends hardly felt like the weekend anymore. No time with Simon. No sightings of Nora. Even her dorm mates were out of the Gryffindor tower in various parts of the castle. Everything seemed to pass in a blur. One moment she was eating breakfast on Saturday morning, and the next it was Sunday evening and she was hunched over a stack of Transfigurations books in a corner of the common room. Wren sighed as a fifth year boy burst out laughing as an Exploding Snap tower blew up in his friend’s face. The noise was getting too much for both her concentration and her nerves, so, gathering up her books, she retreated up to her dorm, spreading out the materials on her bed.

An hour later, she jolted awake to the door flying open. Wren’s pulse raced as she extracted her cheek from the page of her textbook and blinked around to see what had happened. Alicia stood just inside, tears streaming down her face. She also seemed surprised to see Wren, half sitting up amongst her materials with her hair sticking to her face.

“Oh, hullo, Wren,” she greeted, hastily wiping at her eyes while studiously avoiding Wren’s gaze.

Wren lifted herself up to a seating position, her face creasing in worry. She wished she had Nora’s natural instinct to know what to do in situations like this. Did she ask questions? Pretend like she didn’t notice the tears? Leave?

“Hi,” Wren said gently.

Alicia walked over to her bed, bending over to pull off her shoes. She succeeded in unlacing one and threw it to the floor with much more aggression than the shoe could possibly have deserved.

“Are you all right?” Wren asked dumbly, cringing the second the question came out of her mouth. It was exceedingly obvious, even to her, that Alicia was very much _not_ all right.

“I’ll be ok,” Alicia brushed aside, fighting with the other shoe.

“Ok,” Wren nodded, despite the fact that Alicia still refused to look at Wren.

“Is Angelina around?” Alicia’s voice came out tight and high.

Wren winced. “I think she’s in the library with Lee.”

Alicia nodded, evidently not trusting her voice for a response.

“If you’d like, I’ll fetch her,” Wren offered. Because that was the decent thing to do right? That was the right solution? Before she could get a response, Wren hedged her bets. “But also if you want, I’m a decent listener.”

“It’s stupid,” Alicia dismissed, despite the fact that her voice seemed to crack around the word.

“Given the fact that I haven’t seen you cry more than twice over the past six years, I doubt that.”

“It’s just…boys are _morons,_ ” Alicia sat down on her bed, and Wren got up from hers, humming in agreement with Alicia’s statement as she crossed the room, sinking down into the bed next to her dorm mate. She lifted her arm to put it around Alicia’s shoulders before moving to pull her hair back over her shoulder as if that’s what she had always intended to do. She couldn’t remember: was it Angelina or Alicia who didn’t like to be touched? She had to be the world’s worst dorm mate. It was a miracle they even tolerated her.

“And which boy in specific is the moron that made you cry?”

Wren had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.

“Jason Samuels.”

While she had expected it, she still had no idea what to say hearing the name of the boy Alicia fancied fall from her lips. Guessing what he did hardly seemed appropriate, but given the wide range of idiocy common in the teenage boys of Hogwarts, asking seemed to be a dangerous option too. So instead, she sat next to Alicia and tentatively looped her arms around her in what she hoped was not the most awkward hug to ever be given. Whether or not it was, Alicia fell into Wren, her crying picking up.

“I caught him kissing Louisa Finch.”

Wren’s spine straightened, but she didn’t say anything.

“Last night–we were fooling around, and he wanted–” Alicia sobbed, seemingly unable to continue as she buried herself into Wren’s shoulder. “I said no. I shouldn’t have–”

“No,” Wren said, firmly. “Absolutely not. You’re not finishing that thought.”

Alicia sniffed. “But–maybe–”

“No,” Wren repeated, shaking her head. “You’re not for his use. Obviously he doesn’t want a companion, he just wants something he can stick his knob into. You’re more than that.”

Alicia let out a watery laugh. “I can’t believe you said knob.”

“What else do you call it?” Wren asked, and Alicia laughed a bit harder. Spotting a bit of success, Wren smiled. “He’s a wanker. A tosser. A prick. A dickhead. A pants thinker. A broomstick with no lift. A magicless wand. I’m just guessing on the last two.”

Alicia wiped at her eyes, extracting herself from Wren’s hug. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Because you’re smart,” Wren said, grabbing Alicia’s hand and squeezing it. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. It’s better to wait than dive in too soon.”

A pause settled between them as Alicia silently nodded seeming to think over the statement. “You’re right, but–” she swallowed, and Wren could see the tears begin to gather in her eyes again. “It still hurts.”

Behind her Wren heard the door to the dorm open and she looked over her shoulder to see Angelina.

“What happened?” she asked, the tone of her voice hinting that she already suspected exactly the story she was going to hear. Alicia filled her in quickly, adding a few more details that had been lost to sobs when she told Wren. All the while, Angelina listened, her face growing stonier and stonier. “Well, you know what we have to do now,” she said simply.

Alicia nodded. “Can you?”

Wren looked between the two girls, her brow creased in confusion. “Sorry, I feel like I’m missing something.”

Angelina turned her attention to Wren with an echo of amusement on her face. “We have to tell the twins.”

* * *

It was impressive how much food Fred and George were able to knick in just a half hour. Crisps, popcorn, apple tarts, pumpkin pasties, oranges, treacle fudge, nut brittle, and butterbeer were all placed in the center of the floor of the boys’ dorm. Wren and Katie had managed to scrape together a decent stash of other candies like Fizzing Whizzbees, Sugar Quills, Liquorice Wands, and Acid Pops while Lee had convinced the other sixth year boys to leave the dorm and done an impressive job cleaning. Either that, or the boys were a lot neater than Wren would have ever expected.

Wren reached forward, grabbing a new bottle of butter beer and tapping her wand to the top so the bottle cap flipped off.

“Alright are we going to keep avoiding it or should we get to the business of bashing Samuels?” Fred asked, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve got some excellent remarks on his mother.”

“Come on Freddie, we don’t have to go that far,” George admonished, plucking up a handful of crisps. “Let’s just focus on the fact that he’s a disgrace to Ravenclaw House.”

Wren choked on her butterbeer, and Katie reached over to pat her back some as she attempted to pull herself together. Angelina looked more amused at Wren’s reaction than the comment, and Alicia turned rather glum as she twirled a sugar quill between her fingers.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of boys in Ravenclaw who have done the same,” Alicia sighed, lifting the tip of the quill so she could nibble on it.

“No doubt. Boys are horrid,” George agreed. “But even amongst the ranks of Roger Davies and Hector Martín-Delgado, Samuels has a particular brain. One might even liken it to a troll’s.”

Fred nodded. “He’s got to be the dullest of the lot. Not quite sure how he got in, frankly.”

“No bloke in their right mind would choose Louisa Finch over you,” Lee added, nudging Alicia with his shoulder. The corner of her mouth ticked up.

“That’s one thing for sure, but the larger issue is–why snog in a public corridor if you’re attempting to run around with as many girls as possible?” George asked.

Even Alicia laughed this time, spitting bits of sugar quill out of her mouth before clamping a hand over it.

“A fair question, George,” Fred acknowledged, toasting him with his butterbeer. “There are plenty of empty classrooms for that.”

“Or any of the not-so-secret passages,” Katie added.

“Behind a tapestry,” Angelina shrugged.

“In the woods at night,” George suggested.

“Anywhere on the grounds, really.” Wren put in quickly.

Alicia smiled. “He’s not exactly the best at finding spots for…rendezvous. Last time I tried to meet him, I ended up with you and Norah Randolph.” Alicia gestured at Wren. This thought seemed to deflate her a bit. “It must be nice to have a boyfriend. You don’t have to worry about the running around together bit.”

“I wouldn’t know,” George quipped, popping some Fizzing Whizzbees into his mouth.

Alicia reached over and smacked his arm. George flinched away with a chuckle, his body slowly lifting off the floor as he tossed the rest of the sweets in his hand into his mouth. “I was talking to Wren,” Alicia corrected.

“You have a boyfriend?” Fred’s eyebrows shot up as he looked over at her, locking eyes. Her stomach flipped and she paused mid lick of her Acid Pop.

“Where was he at the Cup?” George asked. She felt more than saw his eyes on her.

Wren swallowed, clearing her throat of all sugar. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having. Not ever really, but particularly not _now_. “He was on holiday.”

“You may very well be on holiday, but you come back for the Cup!” Fred said, indignantly. As if Simon’s absence from the Quidditch World Cup was a particular affront to Fred’s own honor as a fan of the sport.

Wren returned her focus to the acid pop at hand. With any luck it would burn a hole through her tongue in the next twenty seconds, and she’d have an excuse to end this conversation before it steered into unwanted territory. “Well, he’s not particularly a Quidditch fan.”

“What particularly is he then?” George asked.

“Simon Chambers,” Wren answered, sticking the lollipop back into her mouth and deciding that she would not take it out under any circumstances.

“Simon Chambers? Really? You and him?” Fred asked. The shock in his voice was a bit offensive.

Before Wren could break her own resolve–which might have had something to do with why she couldn’t manage to stay un-Imperiused– Angelina stepped in. “They’ve been dating almost two years,” she looked between the twins. “How did you _not_ know?”

The twins shared a look, and shit, shit, _shit._

“Well, I just never would have seen it. You, George?”

“No, never.” No one asked Lee, but he shook his head.

Despite the small wave of relief, her stomach still felt as if it was twisted in knots, and she wished very much that all of the attention was off of her. “Look this isn’t about my love life, this is about celebrating Alicia for narrowly avoiding dating a troll’s tit.”

“Collings! Your language!” George gasped, holding a hand to his chest.

“You should have heard her earlier tirade,” Alicia said, grabbing a licorice wand from Lee’s hand.

Wren once again took the acid pop out of her mouth to defend herself. “It was hardly a tirade. None of the words I said were that bad.”

Alicia crossed her arms. “Would you use them in front of your mother?”

Wren opened her mouth but before she could get a word in, Fred followed up the question.

“Would you use them in front of McGonagall.”

Wren’s mouth snapped shut and the boys laughed.

Katie shook her head. “Never would have expected that out of you, Wren.”

“I never would have expected it out of Simon Chambers’ girlfriend,” Fred remarked.

Wren cast him a sour look, and he laughed loudly, but the subject was dropped, and they returned to eating unhealthy amounts of junk, devising new insults for Jason Samuels, and escaping all of the things that truly sucked about being a 6th year.

* * *

Despite the fact that she had to spend two hours, first thing in the morning, avoiding plants attempting to kill her, Wren found Herbology to be a bit of a reprieve. Even today as Professor Sprout taught them to wrangle with a Venomous Tentacula in order to effectively and moderately safely collect the plant’s juice, Wren felt as if she was able to breathe in the Greenhouse.

Part of this she attributed to her mother. Having grown up with a Herbologist of some note, a good amount of Wren’s childhood was spent in the gardens and greenhouses her mother tended. Of course, her mother had never let her get near anything quite so interesting as the plants at Hogwarts, but she’d always quite enjoyed tending to the honking daffodils and umbrella flowers.

Her young training had certainly come in handy during the early years of Herbology, but even now as she collected vial after vial of the juice. Wren backed away from the plant, casting an eye around the greenhouse. Many students seemed to still be struggling getting near the plants, while others, like Fred Weasley, seemed to have no issue getting near the plant but couldn’t quite figure out how to draw out the juice. She continued looking around, her eyes landing on Jason Samuels who was currently standing _far_ too close to Caroline Purvis. She giggled as she held the vial up to the plant, and he stepped even closer, almost forgetting his role as a distractor for the plant.

Wren’s jaw clenched. George was right. Boys were horrid, and Jason Samuels was a special sort. He deserved a serious bit of justice.

As she set the vials in their holder to be brought up to Professor Sprout when class ended, an awful idea struck Wren.

It made her smile.

With one eye on Professor Sprout who was busy helping Arlan Summers and Tom Dalgliesh with their plant, Wren corked a vial, wrapped it in cloth, and stuck it in her bag.

Herbology ended soon after, some pairs, like Wren, scoring as many as four while others had nothing but a few tears in their robes to show for their morning.

Quickly, Wren made her way up the hill towards the courtyard where she could study before lunch. She had just picked out a spot lawn when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned, staring harder as if that would make things make more sense.

Alicia and Nora were….hugging?

It was none of her business. She should really sit down and open up a textbook and focus on her studies and not be walking across the courtyard right now.

“Hi?” Wren cast a look between the two girls.

“Hullo Wren,” Alicia said, the words coming out a bit muffled because of the sweet she was chewing. Wren turned her attention to Nora, squinting at her cousin as if that would explain why she was suddenly such close friends to Alicia. Alicia, Wren’s dorm mate, whom Nora had had maybe three classes with in her entire Hogwarts career.

As both girls looked at Wren somewhat expectantly, it hit her that she probably should have come up with some excuse to be coming over to say hello. “Hi,” Wren repeated again, this time more as a statement than a question. “I just wanted to catch Nora, for a second.”

“Yes?” Nora asked, tilting her head slightly.

Shit.

“Mum said to ask if Aunt Kathleen had sent you my color changing ink. She thinks I must have left it at your house when we got back from shopping.”

Nora shook her head. “No, mum hasn’t sent anything yet…I thought I saw that in your trunk?”

Shit. _Shit_. Wren was saved from having to attempt another lie by Alicia.

“Wait–are you two cousins? I always thought you were neighbors or met on the train.”

Nora laughed heartily. “I know. It’s hard for me to believe this moody one is my blood,” she teased, poking Wren.

“To be fair, we are practically neighbors. It’s just the two houses between us,” Wren said, batting Nora’s hand away as the other girl continued to poke Wren in the arm.

“Blimey,” Alicia shook her head. “I’m just as bad as Fred and George aren’t I?”

Wren wanted to assure her that she wasn’t. The fact that Alicia even knew Wren was dating Simon was purely because Wren had asked her for advice to help get dressed for their first date. The only reason Wren had known that Alicia fancied Jason was more due to Lee announcing it to the common room one afternoon at the end of last year than because of any kind of closeness between the girls. But Wren didn’t get the chance because Nora spun to face her.

“Oh?” she asked, her voice going up an octave. “How’s that?”

“They didn’t know she was dating Simon Chambers.”

“Well, can’t blame them for that one,” Nora’s voice returned to normal as she once more turned to Alicia, ignoring Wren’s glare. “You two are never around each other.”

“Our schedules don’t match,“ Wren defended flatly.

Even though she wasn’t facing her, Wren could see the small twinkle in Nora’s eyes. “Would you say it’s…'an unavoidable conflict’?”

Wren groaned, and Nora laughed again. "Told you Wren. Divination is serious magic. Anyway,” Nora flipped her plait over her shoulder. “I’m supposed to meet Arlan and Cedric so we can do some Astronomy work before lunch. Keep me updated,” she added to Alicia who nodded in agreement. With that, Nora was off leaving Wren and Alicia together.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know Nora Randolph was your cousin!” Alicia shook her head, moving out into the courtyard. Wren followed her.

“I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We’re not really. Or at least, we weren’t,” Alicia said, selecting a shady spot under a tree and sitting down. Wren hesitated before putting her own bag down and sitting beside the other girl. “We have Ancient Runes together. With Jason.”

Wren’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“She saw me looking miserable yesterday and made her partner switch chairs with me. Next thing I know, she’s passing me toffees and I’m telling her the whole story.”

Wren shook her head with a small laugh. “That sounds like Nora.”

Alicia began unpacking some parchment and books from her own bag. “There’s not anything in those toffees is there? Veritaserum or something of the sort?”

Wren shook her head again. “That’s just Nora. People’ll tell her anything.”

“I think we might be best mates now.” Alicia commented and Wren laughed before taking out her own work, and settling into a studious silence next to Alicia.

* * *

She hadn’t planned how to get the juice into Jason Samuels' drink.

That was the primary thought running through Wren’s head as she sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at her food. She had waved Alicia on to lunch before her, claiming she was just going to finish the chapter before she went in and the other girl didn’t have to wait. She’d waited fifteen minutes to enter the Great Hall, sitting far along the table so as not to be seen by professors or any of the prefects who tended to group together at the middle of the table whether consciously or not.

It was about then that the thought hit her for the first time, and she had eaten most of her food and was in the final quarter or so of lunch without the faintest clue as to how to get this vial in his drink.

She couldn’t very well just walk up to the Ravenclaw table and slip some in his goblet. The most interaction she’d ever had with him was holding a door open to Charms. They’d never even so much as spoken. Wren half considered dropping a knut on the floor and picking it up and handing it to him. But, passing off a knut and simultaneously pouring something into his goblet seemed just short of impossible.

Wren took a bite out of her roll, watching as more Ravenclaws came in and filled the table. She caught sight of a familiar tall and lean boy with copper hair, and her eyes lit up. _Simon_. She would walk over under the perfectly reasonable guise of saying hello to her boyfriend, and swap her own goblet with Jason’s.

This plan quickly crashed as Simon passed Jason, picking an empty spot, naturally towards the center of the table.

Of course, Wren had considered switching her plan to a simple Pepper Breath Hex, which certainly would have put an end to his romantic endeavors at least for the next couple of days or so. But compared to her initial plan, this idea seemed so inadequate. And how could she even be sure that Alicia got to enjoy the justice? There had to be some way, some excuse, for her to switch goblets–

_Of course._

It was so simple, really.

It was unlikely the teachers would expect it. If anything, it’d be written off as an unhappy accident from Herbology. If only he had properly corked his vial or used gloves to pass it along like Professor Sprout had said. Quickly glancing around to see if anyone was looking at her, which of course they weren’t, Wren pulled the Venomous Tentacula juice from her bag and poured it in her own cup.

Subtly, she took her wand out of her pocket and with another quick glance up at the professor’s table, tapped her own goblet, muttering the spell.

She peered inside and noticed her cup was slightly emptier than it had been.

She’d switched them. A rush of victory swelled in Wren’s chest and she almost wished that someone near her would give her a high five.

It took five minutes to determine that her plan worked. A small commotion rose at the Ravenclaw table which seemed like normal lunch nonsense before the group of boys around Jason parted. Wren watched as Jason’s skin slowly shifted from its beautiful shade of lilac to a darker lavender. Giggles began to echo through the Great Hall as Jason’s distress grew more and more apparent. Wren cast a quick look up at the professors’ table. Professor Snape looked particularly unamused, but Dumbledore had a small quirk of his lips.

Wren took this as permission for herself to smile as Jason’s friends rushed a now violet Jason Samuels out of the hall and towards, undoubtedly, the Hospital Wing. Sensing this was as good a time as any to dismiss from lunch, the food vanished from the table, and the students began to file out. Wren picked up her bag, ready to go to Transfiguration and feeling particularly pleased with herself as all around her students whispered about _that purple Ravenclaw!_

“Fine work, Collings.” Wren nearly jumped out of her skin, fumbling her books. She succeeded in catching them back onto her arms, but one slid out, bouncing against the ground in front of her. Before she could bend over to retrieve it, one of the twins scooped it up and placed it on top of his own, significantly shorter stack of books. If two books could be called a stack.

“What?” Wren asked, her head turning to each of the twins.

“I was wondering what you were up to in Herbology,” Fred, the one who was not holding her book, remarked.

“Sorry, you’ve lost me.” Wren shrugged and gave a jerky shake of her head.

Fred gave her a wolfish grin. “Have I?” He waved his wand, and the empty vial shot out of her bag and into his hand. Because _of course_ he could do nonverbal spells already. He wiggled it in front of her, and Wren snatched at it, surprising herself by actually wrenching it from his hands.

Wren stuffed it back into her bag, glaring at him–although the fact that he was absolutely correct took all of the heat out of her look. “That’s for potions.”

“And apparently poisoning Ravenclaw dickheads,” Fred remarked.

“I didn’t _poison_ him.”

She did. Technically.

“I don’t even understand why you think it was me.” She succeeded in making her voice slightly more casual this time which did nothing but make the boys’ smiles grow.

“It’s not a suspicion,” Fred dismissed. “ I knowit was you. Saw you in Herbology.”

“There’s a plant that does _that_?” George asked with widened eyes.

“Apparently the Venomous Tentacula,” Fred said. “Sprout said it was a poisonous juice, but I never reckoned I’d actually see someone poisoned with it.”

“Stop saying I poisoned him!” Wren hissed.

George’s brow wrinkled. “Is there another word for it?”

“Empoisoned?” Fred suggested.

“Envenomed?”

“Would this count as drugging?”

Wren brushed past the twins, entering the Transfigurations classroom. They followed her in laughing.

Alicia looked up from where she and Angelina were gathered together giggling. “Wren!” she called, waving her over quickly. Wren approached, dropping her books off at her desk along the way and trying very hard to keep the smile off of her face, seeing Alicia positively beaming.

“Tell me you didn’t miss it.”

“Jason Samuels turning bright purple? How could I?”

“Merlin, it was glorious,” Alicia exclaimed looking happily up at the ceiling as if attempting to thank Merlin himself up in heaven. When she looked back down, her eyes fell on the Weasley twins who had followed Wren over. “You two, you did this, didn’t you?”

“Us? No,” George shook his head.

“We’d never dope a student,” Fred added, pausing for a second. “That’s the word we’re going with, right?”

George shook his head. “Doesn’t seem quite right. I still think poison’s the best fit.”

Alicia’s face creased in confusion, and perhaps if Wren hadn’t seen fit to cast a dark look at the two, the other girls might have assumed they were lying.

“Wren Collings, what did you do?” Angelina asked, and Wren’s face went slack with surprise. It was just her luck that Angelina, the one observant enough to have taught Wren and Alicia how to tell the twins apart, would have caught the look.

“Me?” Wren asked, perhaps too defensively because now Alicia’s eyes were on her.

“ _Wren,”_ Alicia looked at her wide-eyed. “Did you….?”

Wren made a sound of disbelief. “You think _I_ poisoned a Ravenclaw student? I’m dating a prefect! A Ravenclaw one.”

“You did!” Alicia gasped, grabbing Wren into a tight hug. “You’re bloody brilliant. Honestly, Wren. I could kiss you.”

“Doubt she’d let you,” Fred quipped.

Alicia released Wren who stepped back, taking her book from George and hitting Fred with it. “So violent, Collings,” he flinched away laughing. "They’re going to lock you up in Azkaban. You maniac.“

"So if he wasn’t poisoned,” Angelina said, “What exactly happened to him?”

All eyes fell on Wren. “He didn’t wash his hands properly after handling the Venomous Tentacula juice in Herbology today. Or maybe the cork wasn’t on right and some got on his skin,” she shrugged. “Professor Snape said it happens every year.”

Fred opened his mouth to remark but was cut off by Professor McGonagall walking in, signaling to the students to stop talking and find their seats. Her gaze fell on Fred.

“Mr. Weasley, as you are not taking this class, please find your way to the door.”

Fred gave McGonagall a salute, and turned to leave, making sure to gesture to Wren that he had his eyes on her before heading out of the room. Wren’s cheeks tinged pink as she made her way to her desk.

The light poisoning might have been a mistake.


	3. The High Priestess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my butt. But the fact that it's written and posted and I did not disappear for a year (which has been known to happen when I can't seem to get a chapter right) is a victory.

Word of the Jason Samuels Incident--what Wren had finally agreed to call the small display of justice at lunch--spread quickly throughout the castle. While this was somewhat worrisome, it was not an entirely unexpected consequence. Besides, for the most part, the student body seemed focused on the fact that Jason had rather abruptly turned completely violet and not so much on the hows, whos, and whys of the situation.

Although Wren was fairly certain that it was only a matter of time before those questions would ripple through the castle, she was proved wrong on her way to Divination. As she was passing by a gaggle of third year girls, she overheard their whispers: apparently, during the fourth to fifth block class change, Professor Snape had been seen arguing with Professor Sprout about her standards for admission to her NEWT level class. This news quickly passed from student to student, bringing new life to the buzz surrounding the Incident and easing Wren's anxiety a bit.

While a purple student and quarreling professors would be enough to keep the student body talking for at least a week, right before dinner the drama came to a head when loud shouts were heard coming from the Hospital Wing. According to Lee, three girls had been dragged out by Hagrid and Madam Hooch, kicking and screaming at each other. From what he could gather, each of them had been to visit Jason only to discover he was dating _all three_ of them.

This of course had inspired Fred Weasley to give a small toast in Wren's honor, despite her protests that he " _Sit down!"_ and _"Shh!"_. Afterwards, the Twilight Protectorate--the name Alicia saw fit to bestow upon them--spent the rest of dinner sharing the various speculations they'd heard throughout the day about "the purple Ravenclaw."

But much in the same way the purple slowly faded from Jason's skin, so did the excitement surrounding the incident. Life moved on. Jason's Herbology station was moved closer to Professor Sprout, the Weasley twins stopped making a show of watching Wren's every move, and normal life at Hogwarts resumed.

For the most part.

There seemed to be a lingering closeness between Wren and her dorm mates. Alicia had taken to insisting that Wren come to the library with her and Angelina and Katie or join their game of Exploding Snap or come and lay out on the lawn with them.

This was exactly where the girls found themselves stretched out now, Angelina halfheartedly working on her muggle studies homework, the rest having long given up on their own parchments and books scattered between them.

“Reckon we don’t have too many days left like this,” Katie mused, tucking her arms under her head as she lifted her face to the sun.

“I’m surprised we even got this one,” Angelina remarked, scratching out an answer and rewriting a new one.

It was unusually pleasant even for early October. The girls' jumpers were plenty to keep them warm against the cool breeze that swept across the lawn every now and then, rustling their parchments and flipping pages in their books. 

"It'd be nice if it stayed like this for your birthday," Katie said. "We could do something on the lawn then."

Angelina shook her head as she continued to scan through the book in front of her for a bit of information. "We don't need to do anything for my birthday."

"You're turning _17_ ," Alicia pushed, as if the fact that Angelina would finally be of age was lost on her. "You'll officially be able to do magic whenever you want."

"And drink whatever you want," Wren put in, lifting her head up from her folded arms and propping her chin up in her hand. 

"I want to see Angelina do shots of Firewhiskey," Katie smiled, turning onto her stomach to stare at Angelina. Angelina, for her part, simply rolled her eyes.

"Not going to happen," she said, with a firm shake of her head, quill scratching lightly against the parchment. "The only thing that's really going to be any different over the next eight months is that I can enter the Tournament."

Alicia gasped excitedly, jerking up into a seated position. "You're going to do it?"

"Do what?"

Wren jumped as there was a flurry of robes next to her and Lee Jordan settled himself next to her, stretching out his feet and leaning back on his arms.

"Angelina's going to enter the Tournament!" Alicia responded as Fred and George dropped themselves into the spaces between Katie and Alicia, and Wren and Angelina.

"Excellent," Fred said, nudging books out of the way with his foot. "We'll be putting our names in as well."

"But your birthdays aren't until April," Katie's brow furrowed as she stacked the book Fred moved on top of another one.

"That's right," George nodded.

"You have to be 17 to enter," Katie pressed.

A smile quirked at the corner of Fred's lips. "And when has something as trivial as a rule ever stopped us?"

Alicia snorted, and Angelina heaved a sigh, closing her book and rolling up her parchment.

"The way we see it, all we have to do is fool the judge. And if he--"

"It," Wren corrected, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. The eyes of the group fell on her as Fred's sentence was abandoned.

"It?" George repeated.

Wren looked up, glancing around the circle. "Well, the judge can't be a person."

"Do go on," Fred extended a hand as if to prompt her. Angelina smacked at his shoulder and he withdrew his hand, scowling at her.

Wren flushed, and shook her head, but George nudged her with his shoulder. "C'mon, all theories are worth hearing."

"Well, it can't possibly be a professor from any of the three schools; they're not impartial. And it's unlikely it'll be a Ministry person either since a victory for Hogwarts is a victory for Britain. And I doubt they'd get some international ministry member to come in and decide. For one, they're much too busy, and for two, they'd be easily swayed by international politics. Which means that it's probably some sort of object like the sorting hat, or maybe a creature."

There was a brief silence after her observation followed by a small "Huh." out of Fred.

"That does make what Dumbledore said about personally ensuring no underage student hoodwinks the judge," Alicia nodded. "It's unlikely a judge able to determine the best the school has to offer would be easily tricked."

Fred looked thoughtfully over Wren's shoulder, his eyes distant and brow furrowed slightly. Beside her George was also stiller than normal, only drumming his thumb lightly against his leg.

"Reckon you'll put your name in, if we figure out a way around the judge?" Lee asked Alicia who shook her head.

"I'm happy being a spectator for once," she said, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "I just hope one of you gets it. It'll be nice to have a Gryffindor champion to cheer for."

"Trust me," Fred said, his eyes landing on Wren. "There'll be a Gryffindor champion."

* * *

Wren sank into a spot at the Gryffindor table with just twenty minutes to spare before she had to head off to Charms. It was not the first time she'd woken up with a start followed immediately by a sinking sensation at the sight of her empty dorm. It wasn't even the first time this year. She'd cut it even closer just two weeks back. Still, any morning that entailed sprinting down seven staircases all while praying that Peeves didn't notice her never instilled a feeling of victory or relief or even gratitude when she turned into the Great Hall and there was still food on the tables.

All that to say, she was not in the best of moods when the Weasley twins sat themselves across the breakfast table from her with identical mischievous smiles on their faces.

"How would you like to make magical history?" Fred asked.

Wren blinked twice, her heart still racing from her run, as she stared between the two of them. "Morning to you as well. I'm fine enough, thank you for asking. And no, I wasn't about to use that jam, please help yourself," she said bitterly, gesturing to where George was topping a bit of toast with raspberry jam that Wren had just been about to use before it slipped from under her fingers.

"Excellent, now that we've gotten the pleasantries out of the way, what do you say?" Fred gestured for her to answer. Wren continued to glare at George until he handed the jar back over to her so she could continue fixing her breakfast.

"What do you mean magical history?" she asked. Despite the fact that her attention was on her plate, she could practically feel the grins grow on the twins faces. It was rather annoying.

"Knew she'd be curious," Fred shot to George.

"Never doubted it," George shot back.

Wren placed the knife down, shaking her head. "I take it back. If I know you two, this isn't going to be anything good. I don't want any part of it."

"Look at this, Fred, she's got us all figured out."

"Well, George, we have had three conversations together. I'd say that's enough to infer motives."

Wren ignored the bickering and leveled them with a look. "I know you two well enough to know that _you're_ Fred," she said pointing to the twin claiming to be George, "And _you're_ George."

Their eyes brightened with delight. "Well spotted, Collings," Fred complimented. "What gave us away?'

Before Wren had a chance to make up some sort of answer--there was no way she was going to give away the tricks Angelina had taught her--George cut in. "You're forgetting, Fred, that Wren and I are close personal friends," he remarked with a significant look, punctuating the statement with a bite of his toast.

Wren's eyes widened and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. "We _don't_ need to speak about that. Ever."

Fred laughed. "That bad was it?"

"Hang on now, you hardly gave me any warning," George argued, defensively.

Wren glowered at them some more and resolved herself to never be late to breakfast ever again. "Get back to your original point or I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine," Fred agreed, squaring his shoulders to face her. "How would you like to be the first witch to brew a potion that stumps Albus Dumbledore?"

"Be serious then," Wren shook her head, expecting the twins to come clean about asking for help with a prank or some other sort of mischief. But instead, they simply peered intently at her with expectant looks on their faces. "You're joking. No. "

"You're in NEWT level potions," George said.

"As a Gryffindor no less," Fred added.

"Angelina says you have top marks too." George casually bit into his toast again.

Wren's stomach let out a grumble and she paused the conversation long enough to take a bite of her scone. She chewed it slowly, eyeing the twins as if expecting them to break and admit they were teasing her. Instead they looked at her with eyebrows raised and hands folded in front of them as if at a business meeting. She swallowed, shaking her head. "That just means I'm good at paying attention and following instructions."

George gave a meaningful look to Fred. "Modest, this one."

"Incredibly," Fred nodded back at his brother. Wren huffed and returned to her breakfast, multitasking by giving the two a rude hand gesture.

They didn't seem to get the point.

"It's admirable, really."

"A shining example to all of wizardkind."

"Stop it, you two," Wren snapped.

Fred shook his head, reaching over to Wren's plate and stealing a piece of bacon, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good platter of it sitting slightly to his right.

"You've got a gift Wren Collings," George appealed. "This could be your time to show it off."

"Not only that, but you're clever and more devious than you appear," Fred said, waving the bacon at her. "Far more devious than a prefect's girlfriend should be."

Wren shot him a dirty look, but before she could properly chew him out, George jumped in. "We need your help."

She looked down at her plate and picked up the remaining piece of bacon before either of the twins could reach for it. "What potion do you want me to brew?"

This mischievous grins were back on their faces, and this truly was a horrible idea.

"Just a simple ageing potion." Fred shrugged.

"Oh yes, very simple; all I have to do is brew a potion that instantaneously ages every cell in your body the exact same amount."

"That about explains it," George nodded, and Wren shook her head.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you need an ageing potion?"

"Thought it'd be obvious," Fred said, reaching over to her plate to grab a scone, and she slapped his hand away. "It's for the Tournament of course. Just in case there's some sort of measure to make sure we're 17."

Wren laughed again, this one slightly more disbelieving than full on incredulous. "There's no way I'll be able to make a potion good enough to get you into the Tournament--get your own bloody scone, Fred." Wren snapped, batting away his hand once more. He raised his eyebrows but finally started to pick at the surrounding serving plates rather than take from hers.

"Don't be so self-defeating Wren," George broke in. "You brewed one well enough on the NEWTs to get an O. Besides, we're not asking you to get us picked--just to help us submit our names."

Wren shook her head. "Do you have a plan for gathering the ingredients? Or figuring out how to haul a cauldron to some unseen location so I can brew a potion without anyone in Hogwarts noticing?"

Fred paused from preparing his own scone to look at Wren disbelievingly. "It's like you don't even know us at all."

"And here we were thinking that you got us."

Wren rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore that small question that had wriggled its way out of the back of her mind: _could_ she create a potion that stumped Dumbledore's magic? No, the thought was absolutely ludicrous. He'd been practising magic for 100 years more than her. But could she create a potion that slid through a crack in Dumbledore's thinking? She didn't need to overcome his magic; she just needed to outwit it. And who was better at outwitting brilliant thinkers than the two boys sitting in front of her.

"I'll consider it," Wren said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The energy buzzing around the two boys was almost electric. "They're going to read about you in History of Magic," George declared.

"Or at least fall asleep on your page."

Wren broke off a bit of her scone and tossed it at Fred who allowed it to bounce off of him before popping it into his mouth.

"Might want to pack up the rest," George said, gesturing at Wren's plate. "Breakfast is over in--" The serving dishes around them vanished, and Wren just managed to grab a half of her scone before her plate and its contents disappeared as well.

She really _had_ to wake up earlier in the morning.

"Here," George said, offering a piece of toast he had snatched up. Wren didn't even bother to fake a protest at the kindness, and instead took it from him with a small thanks. After all, he was part of the reason she hadn't been able to eat her full breakfast. A small part, but a part.

Wren rose from the table, the twins getting up as well and moving to her side. "Shouldn't take much to get the ingredients. Quick OWL to the Apothecary should get us what we need." Fred thought aloud.

"Might have to go closer to home than that," George said with a meaningful look to Fred. Fred nodded, thinking about it before his eyes turned to Wren.

"I suppose we do know someone taking NEWT level potions who does have access to--"

"No," Wren said, clearly. "I'm _not_ stealing from Snape."

"We wouldn't call it stealing," George protested.

"It's simply a reallocation of supplies," Fred shrugged. "Still for an education."

"A hands on, useful education."

Wren rolled her eyes and continued on. "You're in charge of the cauldron and ingredients. If I agree to do anything it's _just_ to make the potion."

"Oh, you'll agree," Fred said, trailing behind her slightly with George.

"You're sure, are you?" Wren asked, turning around in the hall.

Fred's eyes sparkled. "Dead certain."

Wren rolled her eyes and spun back around, polishing off the remainder of her scone and brushing her hand against her side. Behind her the boys continued their conversation about ingredients and she worked her way to the Charms classroom.

"Hey Collings, my mate thinks you're tidy!" a voice shouted out to her, and she stopped, spinning around to see Simon strolling up with Hector and Edmund. Simon rolled his eyes as Hector laughed, and Wren smiled, allowing him to catch up to her. Fred and George also stopped, and she could feel both pairs of eyes on her.

"Good morning, love," Simon said, coming up to her and letting Hector and Edmund pass by snickering and casting a glance back at Simon.

"It's morning, not sure how good it is though," Wren pouted, falling into step with him.

Simon smiled. "You shouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. It doesn't suit you," he said, rubbing the crease in her brow with his finger. "Besides, isn't it a good morning when you get a rare sighting of your boyfriend?"

"A fair point," Wren agreed, allowing herself a smile as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Is that toast?" he asked, looking down at her hand, and Wren nodded. Simon reached over plucking it from her grip and taking a bite. "You mind? I'm still famished."

"Go ahead," Wren nodded.

"Where are you off to then?" Simon asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Charms."

The word didn't come from Wren. Instead, Fred appeared suddenly by her side, George next to him. Wren could see the subtle shift in Simon's face. The confusion and small question there as he looked down at her. "Is that so?"

Wren rolled her eyes, ignoring the way her heart seemed to skip over a beat. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Fred asked, putting a hand over his own heart. "I'm wounded Wren, I thought we were friends."

Wren snorted and shook her head.

"You're friends?" Simon asked, looking down at her again before casting a glance and Fred and George. "That's news to me."

"Keep a catalogue of her friends do you?" Fred asked. Wren turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. His words seemed sharper than his usual teases. Her heart beat a bit quicker.

"Smart. Must come in handy when this one goes on about her day," George nodded. "Or at parties, I'd imagine."

Wren laughed, the sound higher than normal. She cleared her throat and reached up, threading her fingers through Simon's so that both hands rested on her shoulder. "Our campsites were next to each other at the World Cup and we got on," she explained, looking up at Simon as he absently bit from the toast, eyes still on the twins. "Now they bother me whenever they have the chance."

"You know us. Botherers." George said, and Simon shook his head at it all. He might have said something else if the Hallway didn't split, one leading to the greenhouses, and the other off to Charms.

"Well, so long as they don't bother you too much," he said, pulling Wren in closer to him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his lips pressing against hers so forcefully, she felt the blood and heat rush to her face as she attempted to pull the kiss back into a normal hallway peck. She was rather unsuccessful and stayed locked in his embrace until eventually he let go, and with a nod of goodbye at Fred and George, turned off down the hall.

"Change your mind about how good the morning is Collings?" George nodded appraisingly, as a slightly stunned Wren turned back towards them.

"Oh, shove it," Wren snapped lightly before following them off to class and enduring more teasing than she possibly should have to for it being before nine in the morning.

* * *

She intended to tell them no.

It wasn't as if she had any moral qualms with breaking the rules, but it seemed to be a lot of wasted time and energy and for what--so they could attempt to enter a tournament they weren't even prepared for? There was no guarantee they'd even be picked. And what if it came back on her and she got in trouble for breaking the rules.

No. She'd have to tell them no.

Even though Simon was right and the school year had smoothed out some in terms of workload, she was too busy to willingly waste her time on a pipe dream.

But the spare bits of time that were already wasted once she was finished taking notes in class and waiting for everyone else to catch up? That wasn't too much time to devote to the idea.

Wren bent over her parchment, scanning over her list of prospective ingredients. There was the set list needed, and then several others she'd included on a whim: dandelion root, tadpole legs, a little more fluxweed. She considered the list for a second before scrawling at the bottom: _boomslang skin?_

"What are you working on?" Cedric whispered, lowly. Wren's head snapped towards him, an arm reflexively coming around her parchment as if to shield it from view.

He let out an amused exhale and raised his eyebrows as if to say _Really? "_ An illicit project then?"

"No," Wren returned defensively. She paused, taking a moment to fully consider it. "Maybe."

Cedric smiled, and she lifted up her pitiful shield arm, putting her head in her hand instead to shield his face from view as she slid the parchment over to him.

"An ageing potion?" Cedric asked, a tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. "What's so--" he seemed to catch on then. "For the Tournament?"

Wren nodded and dropped her hand. "It's not for me, though."

"Of course not," he dismissed, eyes returning to the list of ingredients with her additions and ideas about ways to modify the brewing process.

"It's not," Wren protested a bit too loudly, casting her glance around and finding Snape staring at her. She picked up her quill and bent her head down, pretending to be copying more notes.

"I don't blame you for wanting to enter, I'm planning on it," Cedric noted, dropping his own voice lower as well. "What's with all of the extra ingredients?"

Wren chanced another look up at Snape, whose head was bent over a stack of parchments on his desk. She looked over Cedric's shoulder at her notes. "If I want to make a potion that gets around Dumbledore's precautions, it can't be a simple ageing potion. It needs to address any potential...failsafes."

Cedric turned to look at her. "You're a bit of a genius, aren't you?"

Wren flushed. "I haven't even decided if I'm going to make it yet."

"I don't see why not," Cedric said, pushing the parchment back over to Wren. "If you're able to make this, you'd deserve more of a shot at being Champion than me. I'm just putting my name in. I do have a question though," he said, and Wren nodded, looking down at her scribblings.

"Have you considered adding lovage?"

She shook her head.

"If you crushed it right, the effects would be harmless to the drinker, but it would sweat through…"

"And create an air of confusion around them," Wren finished, eyes widening. The aura might make it more likely for the seller to miss the fact that the twins were aged up. "That's brilliant," she complimented, adding the ingredient to her list.

"Happy to have helped," Cedric nodded at her, his eyes catching on something up front before bending over his work. "Snape's coming," he hissed.

Wren shuffled the notes between other bits of parchment under her books, pulling out her finished Potions notes and feeling a little less than certain in her impending refusal of the twins' request.

[LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE][LINE]

No good deed went unpunished.

That was the only possible explanation for Fred Weasley to be dropping his books next to hers right now. She was being punished for turning Jason Samuels purple. Despite the fact it was two weeks later. It seemed that karma took time.

"Don't look so excited," Fred chastised. "I've recently learned that Herbology is serious business, so I can't be helping you with your mischief."

Wren glowered, and in return, he winked at her.

“This is part of your plan isn’t it?” Wren asked, narrowing her eyes at Fred. “All that on Tuesday was so you’d get reassigned to be my partner?”

She was referencing, of course, the awful prank he had played on Anthony Hooper. Throughout the entire class Fred had continuously baited the Poulpeplant into wrapping one of its vines around Anthony’s foot so that any time he moved, it yanked him back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

It hadn't been until the end of class that Anthony caught Fred dropping bits of bait into his pants' cuff.

The class had had a laugh and ended before Professor Sprout had been able to fully lecture Fred about the dangers of messing around in Herbology.

She still had plenty of time to take away 25 points from Gryffindor, though.

“Now why would I want to be your partner? You poisoned your last one.”

“I did not!” Wren hissed. “He wasn’t my partner, and it was a _light_ poisoning at most.” She paused, pieces clicking together. "You're here to get me to help you steal ingredients. Aren't you?"

"First off, I believe I already clarified that we aren't stealing--we're reallocating. And second, you made it very clear that obtaining ingredients wasn't part of the deal."

"It's not."

"Could be though."

"But it's not."

"You _have_ been known to be light-fingered."

Wren glared and Fred smiled. “We have another plan for the ingredients. Getting reassigned to be your partner is but a happy accident.”

She did not believe him. "I'm not helping you get ingredients. I haven't even decided if I'll help you," Wren said.

Fred gave her a _very_ disbelieving look and then reached over, and tugged her copy of Advanced Potions Making from her stack of books. Wren let out a noise of protest, but before she could further yell at him, he cut her off. "You don't have Potions today."

Wren reached over to grab the book back as her clear objection was ignored. "You know my schedule?"

"Of course I do. It's part of the planning," he dismissed, pulling it out of her grasp and holding it up. "Which begs the question why are you carrying this around?"

It was then that he seemed to catch sight of the parchment sticking out and slipped it out from the book.

Wren reached forward only to have Fred shove the book back in her hands. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this looks like the makings of an age potion."

There was no point in arguing that it was for Potions. Fred was frustrating, grandstanding, and overeager, but sadly, he was not stupid.

"I wanted to see if it could even be done before I agreed to it."

"You were curious," Fred grinned, looking rather like the niffler that got the galleon.

"I was being practical," Wren defended.

Fred shook his head. "You already knew you could make an age potion. You wanted to see if you could make the best age potion." Fred bent over the parchment. "So what's with these ingredients?"

Wren summoned the parchment back to her and it flew through Fred's fingers, rolling itself up so she could tuck it in her bag. "I was brainstorming different ways to make the potion foolproof. Or fool sure. Adding an aura of confusion, binding it more strongly with your DNA, making the effects more permanent--"

"More permanent?" Fred asked. "Eager as I am to enter the Tournament, it's not worth losing six months of life over."

"Not _permanent_ permanent," she corrected. "Just until your birthday."

Fred seemed less uneasy and more curious now. "Why?"

"Because Dumbledore knows we all brewed aging potions for the NEWTS."

"Honestly, I'm flattered by how intelligent you think I am, but I'm going to need you to explain more," Fred prompted.

Wren opened her mouth to explain right as Professor Sprout called the class to order. Wren shut her mouth turning to the front, listening as the professor began to explain their fertilization experiment for the day. Beside her, she could still feel Fred's eyes intensely on her, and she knew he wouldn't drop the conversation.

"What if whatever Dumbledore does to protect the judge can sense if your age changes faster than it naturally should? If the age potion were to wear off on your birthday, the change of age would seem natural. Right?" Wren whispered.

"You're a bloody genius," Fred murmured back, and Wren shook her head, her cheeks heating up. "A natural inventor."

"I'm not inventing anything. Just using theory to adapt a potion that should otherwise already work," Wren argued lightly.

"In the history books, Wren. You're gonna be in history books."

Wren shook her head and decided to give Professor Sprout her full attention.

Despite what Wren might have supposed, Fred had quite a knack for Herbology. Between the two of them, they had managed to distract and add new fertilizer to three of the five Poulpeplants in the time it took most students in the class to get just one. Wren chalked it up to Fred being both extremely distracting by nature and surprisingly nimble. Although frankly that shouldn't have been much of a surprise what with all of the pranks he pulled around the castle. Still, Wren couldn't help but admire his focus and skill. 

"We make a natural team," Fred said with a grin, nudging Wren's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips turned up.

"We're just both good at Herbology," Wren dismissed.

Fred heaved a great sigh. "Oh come on, Wren. You _want_ to help us. I can see it in you. You've practically done half of the work already."

Wren shook her head, taking up the defensive stance in front of the plant. Fred stood behind the plant, his eyes fixated on her as if he were proficient at Occlumency. Maybe it was the fear that he was that drove her to finally say, "Oh, alright, then."

A bright look of triumph flashed across Fred's face as he beamed. "Excellent. We'll negotiate the details later, but right now, you might want to hold your nose." 

Wren's brow furrowed. "What?"

And then she smelled it. A putrid smell clawed up Wren's throat, choking her and turning her stomach. Quickly she backed away from the plant, flinging an arm over her nose as Fred's hand shot up. "Professor! Is the fertilizer supposed to smell like this?" his voice came out nasally due to his nose being pinched between his two fingers. Professor Sprout hurried towards them as Fred cast Wren a wink.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked under the table. A dung bomb.

"Everyone out of the greenhouse," Professor Sprout ordered, as the students made for the door, coughing and gagging. It took all of four minutes for the class to fully escape into the fresh air, fanning out on the lawn. Wren pulled in lungful after lungful of the crisp air, but the memory of the smell seemed set on her clothes.

Beside her, Fred was receiving an excellent telling off from Professor Sprout, ending with him earning himself a detention fertilizing all of the greenhouses for a week. He looked appropriately remorseful throughout the ordeal, but as Professor Sprout turned and headed towards the greenhouse to clear it out, he cast a look out of the corner of his eye to Wren.

He was a genius. A mad genius. But a genius all the same.


	4. The Hierophant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly this chapter is heavily set up, but the more I tried to make it be not set up, the worse it got. So, here it is. The exciting part for me is that after this chapter we can put the Tournament set up aside and get into the rest of the plot. (I've written a bit of the next chapter, and let me tell you. It's pretty exciting and it's going to be pretty long.)

Over the course of her six years at Hogwarts, Wren had learned that sometimes strange things just happened. Staircases shifted underneath your feet, suits of armor seized hold of misbehaving students, and doors appeared in places they had not been before. Knowing this, however, was entirely different from experiencing it firsthand which is why Wren let out a startled shriek when two pairs of hands reached out of a painting and pulled her through it.

Breaking free from the hands' grasp, Wren reeled on her kidnappers to find two identical faces beaming at her, completely ignoring both the frazzled look on her face and the wand in her hand. " _What,"_ she heaved, her heart still pounding in the chest, "in the name of Merlin's saggy Y-fronts was _that_ for?"

"Language, Wren," George admonished.

"Or we'll have to report you to your Prefect," Fred's grin turned sharper, and Wren glared, tucking her wand back into her pocket to more easily cross her arms in front of her chest.

"I have half a mind to report you to the first prefect I find. Mine or not."

"No you don't," Fred dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You're far too curious."

He was right. Her curiosity _just_ outweighed her annoyance. How did they pull her through a painting? How did they even discover they _could_ pull someone through a painting? Where exactly were they? Why on earth did they feel the need to kidnap her on the way to breakfast? And just what was that smell?

When Wren said nothing, her glare shifting into something a bit more petulant as Fred and George shared a grin.

"Oh go on then," Wren snapped and the twins stepped aside, revealing a cauldron surrounded by different little bundles of plants and phials of other ingredients. That explained the wet earthy smell.

"As promised, cauldron and ingredients," Fred said, gesturing to the pile grandly.

Wren stepped forward, circling the cauldron and mentally cataloguing each of the plants Fred had managed to nick during his detention in the green houses. It was all there, each bundle tied together nicely with twine. She wasn't entirely sure _why_ she was surprised they had pulled it off, but something about standing in a secret alcove with the Weasley Twins, ready to break some rules felt surreal.

Wren paused, turning back to look at them. "You do realize, I'm still not sure that this can even be done," she said. The boys nodded but the eager looks on their faces remained.

"We're well aware of your lack of self-confidence," George said.

"We've got a plan for that as well," Fred added.

"Oh no, don't-"

"Let's see what you've got then," George cut her off, gesturing to her bag.

Wren shook her head, "I hardly have anything."

"Not according to Fred, you don't," George dismissed, waving her back over or maybe just the work she'd done on this absolutely absurd scheme.

"Come on, Collings, a deal's a deal," Fred said.

Wren sighed, digging her rolled up parchment out of her bag. Despite the amount of scribblings on it, she hadn't been lying-there wasn't much of anything there. Just some vague theories about potential safeguards that could be brewed into the potion and ideas for ingredient measurements. She still wasn't anywhere close to feeling ready to brew the potion, and the deadline looming ever nearer did nothing but add to her anxiety surrounding the matter. Still, she passed the parchment over to the boys and watched their eyes light up as they set about reading her notes.

"Do we have enough?" George frowned, looking up from the parchment. Wren looked back at the ingredients on the floor, assessing.

"I'm still tinkering with the exact measurements, but it should be enough. That said, there is one extra ingredient that might help-" Wren stopped and bit the inside of her lip. She felt foolish even suggesting it, but the idea had popped into her head during potions two days ago, and it seemed to be the answer to much of the problems she was having with the potion.

"Which is?" George prompted.

"How likely is it that your brother will give you some of his hair?" The words fell quickly from Wren's lips.

The two boys looked at each other, calculating looks on their faces. "Give? Unlikely," George thought aloud.

"I reckon we can just take some. What's he gonna do?" Fred shrugged.

"Not _that_ brother," Wren clarified and the twins turned to face her, expectant if not mildly surprised looks on their faces. "Charlie."

"Charlie?" They repeated in unison.

"You share DNA, and you look the most like him. If we use a bit of the theory behind Polyjuice Potion with this Ageing Potion, it might help with the ageing of your DNA. Of course, it may also slightly alter your looks which is why Charlie."

"Brilliant," Fred said, his eyes lighting up. "Absolutely brilliant."

"Dunno if he'll be in for it though," George said, thoughtfully. "I suppose we should write him before we start the process."

Wren nodded. "I'm still working out the details," she said holding out a hand for her notes, and George passed it back to her. "This would all be much easier if we just knew what the impartial judge was. It's hard to fool something you know nothing about," she mused, tucking the parchment back into her bag.

"We've been working on that," Fred said. "Been asking around in each of our classes. Can't seem to get any of the professors to crack though."

"And some of them have been right nasty when asked," George added.

"Well,you haven't exactly been going about it with tact," Wren said flatly, thinking of George interrupting McGonagall mid-lesson to ask about the Tournament. It had not gone well and ultimately led to her telling him to shut up and get on with transfiguring his raccoon.

"Tact isn't something we tend to invest much effort in," Fred shrugged.

"Then maybe you should get some more people to start asking."

Fred gave her a sly grin. "More people like a certain dark haired potions expert?"

"Like anyone who spends the majority of their time with professors asking questions about assignments and not serving detention."

"Touche," Fred grinned. "Angelina and Alicia then?"

"Maybe Katie as well. Might help that she's two years out from entering," George speculated.

"It's settled then," Fred nodded. "We'll meet back here in a week to discuss and settle on a plan. Now breakfast?"

Despite the fact that delaying her breakfast any further was the last thing Wren wanted to do, she hesitated as the twins moved towards the doorway out of the secret room.

"There is one more thing we need sorted, as well," she said, squaring her shoulders in preparation for her demand. Both twins looked at her expectantly. George's eyebrows were raised up to his hairline and Fred cocked his head to the side, a smirk tugging at his lips. As if by virtue of that statement alone she had just proved his theory about how invested she was in their ill advised project.

"What do I get out of this?"

Fred's smirk transformed into a smile. "I assume you'll be given your own chocolate frog card; Wren Collings: the sixteen year old witch who outwitted the great Albus Dumbledore." His voice took on a booming quality as if he were a showman announcing her entrance to a roaring audience.

Wren rolled her eyes, and George jumped in. "And a small portion of our winnings," he added with a quick glance at Fred who inclined his head towards him. "50 galleons?"

"And if I don't outsmart Dumbledore because such a thing is impossible?"

George sighed, shaking his head at her. "We've really got to move up the timetable on that plan, Fred."

"Agreed," Fred nodded.

Wren let out an annoyed noise which caused both of the boys to beam at her.

"Regardless of whether or not we get chosen, we do offer a lovely thank you gift," Fred said, gesturing for Wren to follow them out of the room. She took a step forward, expecting more of an explanation, but instead waited as Fred pushed part of the wall aside, revealing the outside hallway. "After you."

Wren hesitatingly stepped through, tentatively putting a foot down on the stone floor and upon realizing that it was still firm beneath her feet, stepped fully out and back into the castle. Behind her, she watched as the painting rippled and the boys stepped through. The twins set off towards the nearest staircase, leaving Wren trailing slightly behind.

"I don't suppose I get to know what this thank you gift is?" Wren asked, and the twins stopped, sharing a look at each other before pulling her off towards the side of the hall.

"As a token of our gratitude, you get one of these little beauties," George said, producing a small brightly packaged sweet from his pocket.

"A sweet." Wren said, flatly.

"Not just any sweet," Fred shook his head, and George tossed the candy to him so Fred could hold it up. "This is an afternoon free of classes."

"Conveniently packaged as a sugary confection."

Wren raised her eyebrows

"If you're not interested, you could always settle for the warm feeling of a job well done," Fred said, pocketing it. "Or the thrill of doing something you're not supposed to."

"That's always reward enough for us," George grinned.

Wren shook her head at them, turning to lead the way back to the staircase, hoping they didn't glimpse the small smile on her face. All things considered, she did rather like the thrill.

* * *

With the impending arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, everyone was on edge.

But the professors seemed to be particularly uptight about every little thing. Professor Flitwick had taken to reprimanding students for muttering spells under their breath instead of completing them nonverbally, and Professor McGonagall had accidentally made Grace Nutley cry when she transfigured her pawn into a bishop rather than a queen.

All of this had made it particularly hard for to gather any information on the Impartial Judge. Fred, George, and Lee's requests were met with increasing impatience, and Wren was so wary of being on the wrong side of any professor she didn't even dare ask. This of course had her sitting rather close to the edge as well as it was just about impossible to plan any of the specifics for the potion and time was running out.

Despite all this and the thousands of other reasons she should call off making the Ageing Potion, Wren still took to spending every free moment pouring over her parchment which was getting near impossible to read with the amount of random notes on it. Still, as her eyes gazed over the page, and she turned it to follow a line of thought that curved around several other scribblings, she felt as if there were significant holes to her plan.

A shadow fell across the page, preventing her from reading the rest of the note and prompting her to look up. Nora hovered over her, backlit by the sun and wearing a large grin on her face. "You, Wren Collings, are about to adore me."

Wren raised an eyebrow at her cousin as Nora dropped her satchel and sank to the ground next to it. "Why?"

Nora tsked and shook her head at her cousin. "I believe the words you were looking for were 'I already adore you, Nora.'"

The corner of Wren's mouth quirked up. "What could possibly make me adore you, my dear sweet cousin, any more than I already do?"

Nora beamed. "I've learned key information about our Impartial Judge."

Wren's mouth straightened into a line again, her brow furrowing at her cousin, but before she could even get the question out, Nora was explaining. "Alicia told me about your project."

Anxiety shot through Wren, and her eyes widened slightly. While she was sure Nora caught the look she decided that there was only one course of action to take: feigned ignorance. "What project?"

Nora's grin turned rather shit eating.

"The little potion making project you're working on to help Fred and George Weasley enter the tournament, of course. You're not working on another illegal plot, are you? "

"It's hardly illegal," Wren protested, and Nora let out a triumphant _Ha!_

It was odd how even after just a couple of months at school Wren forgot how well Nora knew her. And she'd fallen right into her cousin's fairly obvious trap. She should have lasted a bit longer.

"Oh don't look like that," Nora said, her grin much warmer now. "I think it's incredible. I'm proud of you."

"There's nothing to be proud of yet," Wren lightly protested, plucking up a piece of grass between her fingers and peeling down a strip from it.

"That's not what I heard," Nora said. "Alicia told me that your work was nothing short of genius."

"Alicia has a lot of undue faith in me."

"You have a lot of undue self doubt," Nora refuted. "Anyway regardless of your quality of genius, I'm proud you're even doing it. Last year's Wren never would have even considered something like this. It's good to see the twins are having an affect on you."

"By turning me into a rule breaker?" Wren raised her eyebrows.

"By making you fun again," Nora teased, poking Wren who swatted at her hand.

"I've always been fun," Wren protested.

Nora gave her an extremely disbelieving look. "As this is a pleasant moment, I am electing notto ruin it by pointing out how that has very much _not_ been true for the past three years."

"How kind of you," Wren said flatly.

"I have an itemized list," Nora stated, tapping the side of her head with a finger. "But I'll save it for another time." Wren rolled her eyes at her cousin but didn't even bother trying to hide her smile. "I _will_ point out though, that I'm surprised you've come within three feet of the twins after what happened at the Cup. Especially given your reaction on the train."

Wren flushed, the smile vanishing from her face as she instead focused on the blade of grass in her hand, pulling down another strip of green. "It's not so much a matter of choice. They've decided we're good friends."

"Fairly certain you were the one who decided to be 'good friends,'" Nora's grin turned a bit more wicked, and Wren reached out to smack at her cousin's arm. Nora laughed loudly, dodging the hit.

"Hey! You could do far worse for friends than someone who saved our arses."

Wren pulled back, looking suspiciously at Nora, but her cousin seemed entirely too earnest.

"I mean it Wren. When my ankle snapped..." Nora started.

"Nora, I don't want to relive it. _Any_ of it," Wren interrupted looking down at the ground. Nora didn't respond, but she did stop talking, her eyes growing distant. A few seconds passed before she came back.

"I just want you to know that I don't think you were wrong for doing what you did. I had half a mind to do it myself."

"I wish you had," Wren mused quietly.

"Well," Nora said, dusting off her skirt. "Still time for that if other avenues don't pan out."

Wren was thankful for the finality in Nora's tone and the opening to shift the conversation back to safer ground.

"So, are you going to tell me what you discovered or not?"

Nora wiggled her shoulders in anticipation, drawing herself up straighter. "Of course I will, after you tell me how much you love and adore me for aiding and abetting your plot to fool the judge."

"Is this how you found out? You badgered your professors to death?"

"I'll have you know I'm _incredibly_ tactful."

She was. She just chose not to use any of it on Wren.

Wren sighed. "I love you very much for helping me with this endeavor."

"Close enough," Nora grinned. "Anyway, I was asking Professor Sprout about it during tea, and she snapped at me of course.-All the teachers are so moody.-Well I suppose she felt guilty afterwards since I told her I was nervous that whoever it was would see how small I was and not give me a fair shake. At first I thought it was just going to be an apology but she let it slip that apparently the judge is not sentient."

It was such a small fact for such a large show of it. Nora'd been playing it up as if she knew exactly what the judge was and how it operated. But still, this would be hugely helpful with the potion making.

"Not sentient? How can it be not sentient and judge?"

Nora let out an exasperated sound. "Really Wren, it's like you completely forget magic exists."

Wren frowned at her cousin. "I suppose a certain equation of spells could be used. But it would have to be a heavily enchanted object."

"Which is why Dumbledore is the one doing it," Nora said as if Wren were thick. Which, she guessed, she was a bit at the moment. "So now you just have to figure out what enchantments he put on it and counteract those."

"When you say it like that it sounds simple."

"It is simple. That's why they won't tell anyone," Nora said, lifting herself up from the ground. "Except me."

Wren let out a small laugh and shook her head at Nora as she picked up her quill and scribbled two words at the top of her parchment: _Not sentient._

* * *

While Wren had known that Nora's revelation would be moderately helpful, she hadn't realized _just_ how helpful it was until she'd begun consolidating her notes onto a new piece of parchment.

It had been a slow dawning as she scratched out ideas that were needlessly complicated given the judge's lack of sentience. In fact, it wasn't until she was on her third piece of parchment having perfected the measurements of just about all the ingredients that she realized just how _possible_ this all was.

A small smile tugged up at the corner of her list as she adjusted the measurement of lacewing flies.

"What are you working on that has you smiling?" Simon asked, bending down and pressing a kiss against her cheek before sliding into the chair across from her.

Wren's smile grew as she looked up at him, watching as he unpacked his bag, placing a pile of books on the table. "You made it." She'd assumed he wasn't coming; after all, it was thirty minutes past when they'd planned to meet for their study date. It had been a disappointment, but things had a way of just popping up with prefects. Duties needing coverage, heads of house needing a word. Nora had complained about as much with Cedric.

He nodded. "Sorry, Wendy ran into me after dinner and asked to go over the alchemy notes."

Wren shook her head, her smile a bit more forced than it had been a second ago. "I'm just glad you're here now."

"So," he said, taking a book off the top of his pile. "Are you going to tell me what you're working on or is it a secret?"

"Not from you," Wren said, warmth returning to her expression once more. "I'm working out how to make a semi-permanent ageing potion." Her eyes returned once more to her notes as she compared her work to the recipe in Advanced Potion Making.

She heard the pages of Simon's book rustle as he flipped it open. "You're a potioneer now, then?" he teased, and Wren let out a small laugh.

"Something like that," she agreed. "If I can ever get the proportion of Fluxweed to Knotgrassright."

Simon nodded absent mindedly. "I'm sure Snape won't take off more than a point or two as long as you're close."

"Oh, it's not for Potions," Wren corrected automatically. Her eyes widened slightly at the admission. It was one thing for Simon to know what she was working on-he wouldn't have any moral qualms with that. Plenty of students had worked on conceptual projects over the years- small tests to the bounds of their magic. But to admit to _why_ she was attempting this...that was another fact entirely.

There was a heavy silence between them before Simon spoke, his voice hesitant and light, trying to coax the information out of her as if she was some skittish Diricrawl. "What's it for then?"

"I want to see if I can make magical history," Wren said, attempting to play it off as a joke. Her hopes rose lightly as Simon laughed at her.

"Really, though, Wren," he said, shaking his head. "What's got you set on this?"

She felt rather stupid for being so nervous to admit the reason to him, but she couldn't quite distract herself from the tautness in his features. As if he too was ready for this conversation to take a turn he did not particularly care for.

"Well, I'm trying to invent a way to enter the Tournament."

The amusement drained from Simon's face. "You can't be serious."

Wren looked away from him, out into the library. It was rather empty given the late hour, and she felt a vague sense of relief that the nearest student was several meters away and blocked off by a wall of books.

"You couldn't possibly think that you'll be able to brew a potion good enough to fool this impartial judge into letting you enter."

Wren opened her mouth to defend herself, but could hardly get out more than the beginning of a sound before Simon continued.

"I mean honestly, Wren; Dumbledore is _personally_ ensuring no one under seventeen gets selected. Albus Dumbledore. The most accomplished wizard to have lived since Merlin. Do you really think that out of all the students in this castle and at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, _you,_ a sixteen year old witch from Gryffindor, would be able to outwit him? He's mastered more magic than you've ever even _heard_ about." Simon shook his head.

"And even if by some miracle your potion succeeds, do you really think that you've mastered enough magic to compete in the tournament? Let alone win?" he stopped to shake his head at her again. "I can't tell if you're being completely foolish or more arrogant than you have any right to be."

"It's not for me," Wren muttered quickly, her cheeks flushed. The fact seemed to cause Simon to draw back and stare at her intently for a long moment.

"That's even worse," he said finally. The pronouncement of his judgment wasn't needed; it'd been clear from his expression. "You do realize how that's worse, don't you? Subjecting someone else to this ill-advised little project of yours? Or is that another thing I have to explain to you?"

"I didn't-" Wren started before stopping and restarting. "They asked me to."

"Who? Who's naive enough to think you won't land them in the Hospital Wing with this? Even Nora has more sense than that."

The jab at Nora stung, but the look of angry disappointment on Simon's face was even worse.

"Who?" Simon asked again, and Wren flinched.

"Fred and George," she said smally, hanging her head.

"I should have known," Simon scoffed, pushing himself away from the table. A heavy silence lingered between them, and Wren could feel his eyes boring into her as if attempting to use wandless legilimency. "At this point, I don't even know what to say Wren. I just thought you had more sense then to get pulled into one of those two's schemes."

"You're right," Wren agreed, nodding her head and keeping her gaze focused on her lap. "I just-" she stopped. She wasn't sure if she could fully convey to him just how persuasive the twins were. But it wasn't fair to fully blame them for her involvement. She had _wanted_ to do this. Been excited by the prospect of it. She'd completely ignored all of her common sense because of her own curiosity and some encouraging words. "I'll tell them I won't do it."

A heavy sigh came from him, and Wren looked up to see him moving his chair back towards the table. He held his hand out for hers, and she took it.

"You know it's the right thing to do."

"I know," Wren mumbled, and he squeezed her hand.

There was a moment more of silence before Simon spoke again. "I'm sorry for snapping." His thumb stroked the back of her hand gently. "I just don't want to see you put yourself in danger because you think you're capable of something you're not. You know how many people die in potions related explosions or other accidents? And those are wizards who've put in _decades_ studying and perfecting the craft. Not just some teenage girl who did well on her OWLs."

Wren nodded, staring down at their hands.

"Not to mention all those who die because a potion was made wrong by some amateur potioneer. You don't need that on your conscience. They can find someone else if they're that 're not the only student to do well in Potions. "

He was probably right. They were friendly enough with just about could easily replace her.

"I love you, Wren. Even in moments like these. I love you."

Wren looked back up at him, attempting to smile at his joke. She couldn't get it to stick and instead settled to focus on the small flickering gratitude that at least one person in her life wasn't set on overinflating her self-confidence. "I love you too."

Simon leaned across the table to quickly peck Wren on the lips before settling back into his seat and letting go of her hand, turning back to his book. Wren looked down at her parchment-the recipe nearly complete- and crumpled it up, tossing the paper into the bottom of her bag.

* * *

Wren stepped through the portrait hole, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

He was right.

It was crazy to think that her scribblings-thoughts she had during lectures or her spare time out on the lawn-would be enough to stump Dumbledore's magic. She didn't even fully know what magic she was trying to stump.

Simon was entirely right. She was being thoughtless, arrogant, irresponsible, all of those stereotypical Gryffindor traits that she'd gotten so good at pushing down over the past few years. She'd let the small possibility of glory and the thrill of attention go to her head.

Wren reached into her bag, fingers easily finding the crumbled up parchment amongst the bottles of ink and quills lining the bottom of her satchel. Her eyes found the fireplace, and the decision made itself.

She moved quickly across the common room, drawing the paper out and tossing it towards the flames when suddenly it switched directions mid-air, zooming to the far corner of the common room. Wren watched in slight horror as Fred Weasley caught it from his seat at a table with George and Lee.

_Great._

Wren moved slowly towards the group of boys who thankfully seemed more focused on her than on the ball of parchment in front of Fred. It was only a matter of time though before the inevitable fallout and the arguing and cajoling. She took in a deep breath, steeling herself up.

It didn't seem to help much with the swirl of emotions inside though.

"What are you burning with that look on your face?" Fred asked, mock suspicion playing on his features as he smoothed out the parchment in front of him.

The surprise hit him first and hard, leaving George to slide the parchment around to look at it for himself. While it was clear he was as baffled as Fred, the look soon gave way to something so genuinely concerned, it caught Wren off guard. She'd expected disappointment, frustration, and confusion, but he looked more worried about her than about their plan. "You're burning your notes."

Wren wet her lips and nodded. "I-I can make you a regular age potion, but I can't make this," she said, gesturing at the parchment. "It's too dangerous, and I shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place. I'm sorry."

George's brow creased even further as he chanced a glance at Fred before looking back at her.. "Just before dinner you were coming up with ideas. What happened?"

"I just-" Wren sighed, shifting her weight to her other foot. "I realized how foolish I was being. There's no guarantee this will even work. And that'd be the best possible way things could go wrong. I mean, this has never been made before, there's no telling what the side effects could be or if-"

"It's Chambers, isn't it?" Fred cut in flatly.

Wren balked, her jaw dropped slightly as she blinked her eyes at Fred. He took this as confirmation and his own expression darkened into something closer to a glower. "Doesn't want you breaking the rules?"

"No-" Wren shook her head. Her voice came out a bit more defensive than she would have liked, making the protest sound and feel a bit like a lie even though it was completely true. "He just doesn't think it's safe. It's too risky."

"Our risk to take though, isn't it?" Fred pushed. "And I'm ok taking that risk. You George?"

"Definitely." George agreed with a nod.

"Lee?"

"It's got to be better than half the stuff you've made me try." Lee smiled.

"Then it's final. We want your version of the potion." Fred looked back up at Wren stubbornly.

Wren's eyes darted between them, her jaw hanging open a bit. She had been ready for them to argue that she'd agreed and a deal was a deal; she couldn't leave them in the lurch now. She'd even slightly hoped that they would hear her reasoning and realize she was right-the traditional ageing potion was the way to go.

But it felt more like they were defending her against herself than arguing for their own interests.

"What makes you think that my version of the potion is worth the risk?"

"Simple," Fred said with a small shake of his head. "I believe in you, Wren, and I will 'til you turn me purple."

Wren allowed herself a small smile as Fred broke out into a grin and George and Lee chimed in with their agreement.

"Honestly Wren," George said, grabbing the paper. "This is the start of something genius. Dumbledore may be brilliant, he may know more than us, but he doesn't know about something that only exists in your mind. I know it may be hard to believe, but there are inventors out there who have discovered magic Dumbledore now uses. You could be one of them."

Wren paused. She hadn't thought of that.

"Got her there Georgie," Fred smiled. "It's settled then: you'll make us your potion, we'll take it, and people will be telling the story of our success for generations to come."

Wren's smile grew a little bigger as George rolled up her parchment, tucking it into his robes. "Just in case you get any ideas before we can enact our plan," he said with a wink at her.

"So, are you going to sit so we can go over some of the logistics or are you going to just hover there?" Fred asked, and Wren exhaled a laugh, dropping her bag and sinking into the seat, feeling a bit lighter than she did when she walked in.


	5. The Chariot

"That's it. You officially need a break," Alicia decided, pulling Wren's copy from _Advanced Potion Making_ out from under her forearm. Wren made a noise of protest, reaching up to try to grab the book back from her dormmate, only for Alicia to hold it up out of reach.

"Alicia, I need that."

"Nope," Alicia answered back, popping the p. "You _need_ to relax. You've spent the past two weeks with your nose in this book. Lee says you've already figured out the potion. At this point, you're just obsessing over answers you won't get until you make it."

Wren huffed, sitting up on her bed and glaring at Alicia. "I'm trying to keep the boys out of the hospital wing."

Angelina snorted from her bed, pulling Wren's attention to her. "That's going to involve several sticking charms and maybe a good Body-Bind Curse."

"The only adult they spend more time with than Filch is Madame Pomfrey," Alicia nodded with some finality. "Your potion's _fine_. You said you even had Cedric check it."

She had, and even he hadn't been able to spot any potential problem spots. Her face must have softened some because Alicia let out a triumphant _Aha!_ which made Wren think she was spending a bit too much time with Nora. This was perhaps more dangerous than anything that could happen with the potion.

"See? You deserve a break."

"Get your mind off it," Angelina added.

"Easier said than done," Wren said, throwing herself back into her pillows. "Between this and classes, it's not like I'm brimming with opportunities to relax."

Alicia turned to Angelina giving her a very significant look. Angelina, for her part, returned the look with a very clear, stern, _no._ The two girls held each other's stares for a long moment as Wren looked between the two of them, her brow crinkling in confusion.

"For Wren?" Alicia's voice took on a slight pleading tone, and Angelina let out a long-suffering sigh, hanging her head.

"Fine."

The absolute glee on Alicia's face at Angelina's apparent defeat was almost laughable. In fact, it took just about all of Wren's self-control for Wren to keep herself from laughing.

"I'm missing something," Wren said, fighting to keep the corner of her mouth down.

Angelina looked up at Wren with an exhausted sort of resignation. "Apparently I'm having a birthday party on Friday." Alicia turned to Wren, widening her eyes with excitement. Wren smiled reaching out for her copy of _Advanced Potion Making,_ and Alicia passed it over. "But nothing big!" she pointed an accusing finger at Alicia.

"How big can she make it in two days?" Wren asked, raising an eyebrow.

Angelina' scowled. "You'd be surprised."

"I promise we'll keep it small and quiet."

"Small and quiet," Angelina repeated with a nod. "And if it's not--just remember I know a lot about you Alicia Spinnet. And I know there's certain things you might not want certain people to know about."

Interest piqued, Wren turned to face Alicia who had narrowed her eyes at Angelina. "You wouldn't."

"And you wouldn't throw me a huge birthday party, would you?" Angelina asked lightly, a bit of a smile turning up her lips as she began stacking her books on the bed.

"Well played, Johnson."

Angelina didn't respond, but there was a certain lightness to her movies as she slid from her bed, picking her books up before making her way to the door.

"Have fun with Katie. Don't forget to invite her!" Alicia called after her, and Angelina waived before exiting the dorm.

There was a beat of silence as both Alicia and Wren stared at the door. The moment stretched one breath, two, three…

"Fred and George are right, you are more devious than you look," Alicia said, spinning back around to face Wren. "You had _me_ convinced you were going to have a breakdown."

Wren laughed. "I still can't believe Angelina needs to be _tricked_ into having a birthday party."

Alicia rolled her eyes shaking her head. "You remember her birthday second year, don't you? We threw her that birthday party and Lee brought those enchanted balloons?" Wren couldn't believe she'd forgotten those balloons. They had _filled_ the common room. When popped they cheered for Angelina, and when the air was let out of them slowly, they literally sang her praises. Not only had Angelina never been one to be the center of attention, but some of the compliments they sang about her were rather... _romantic_ in nature. Wren remembered attempting to corral as much of the balloons as possible and pop them all at once to get it over with. The whole thing had been a complete spectacle leading to a common room had been full of laughter and an _extremely_ mortified Angelina.

Alicia must have seen the memory dawn on Wren because she let out a sigh. "Ever since she hasn't trusted us enough to throw her a party."

"Tell me you haven't enlisted Lee's help for this one," Wren said with a smile.

Alicia paused, her mouth dropping open slightly before a sheepish look overtook her features. Wren laughed out.

"He's the only one able to get us some fire whiskey!"

Wren raised both of her eyebrows at Alicia who sighed, running a hand over her face. "I've made a huge mistake haven't I?"

Wren shook her head. "I'm sure we'll find out Friday."

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Wren's eyes followed each jerk of the second hand.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Two more minutes left.

Alicia had left a good twenty minutes ago with Lee and Katie, on their way to the Top Secret Location with the drinks and decorations. Wren and George were slated to come next with the food.

The boys had insisted on a phased departure so as not to draw too much attention to the fact that seven students had left the portrait hole all at once after hours. "A couple here and there the paintings turn a blind eye to," Fred had explained. "A large group at once? Someone's running off to a professor's study."

"Learned that the hard way," Lee chimed in.

So, they'd broken themselves up into groups each with a boy to guide them through the castle to the undisclosed location. Why the location had remained undisclosed was a small mystery that Wren hadn't been able to get a straight explanation for. But, seeing as it didn't really matter, and as George had guessed, she did rather enjoy the thrill of doing something she wasn't supposed to, Wren let it slide.

The second hand landed on 12, and Wren felt her stomach drop as if she were diving on a broomstick. She swallowed hard, standing up from her bed and wiping her palms onto her jeans.

It wasn't the first time she'd snuck out after hours.

But sneaking out to meet a prefect was a bit different than sneaking out to hold a clandestine birthday party. It felt more like a bend than a break of the rules.

She took a breath in and headed towards the door, careful not to wake up Genevieve or Fiona. She closed it behind her with a soft _click_ before padding down the stairs and into the common room. She was halfway down before she noticed George, standing in the shadows close to the portrait hole, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Where's the food?" Wren whispered halfway across the common room. George raised an eyebrow and then gestured to two bags. The closer she got, the better Wren could see that they were bulging with carefully wrapped foods. In the back of her mind, she wondered if they would be too heavy for her to carry inconspicuously through the castle. Rather than voicing the question, she reached for one and slung it over her shoulder.

It was bulky and fell oddly against her side, but she felt confident enough that she'd be able to navigate it through any tight spaces.

"Ready then?" George whispered back, and she nodded, following him out of the portrait hole.

The pair walked silently through the castle halls. There was far less pressing themselves flat against walls, peeking around corners, and freezing to listen for any sounds of movement. Instead, it was simply a silent stroll through a still and dark castle. As if they had every right to be going where they were going.

George stopped suddenly, and Wren almost ran into his back, instead taking hold of his shoulder to steady herself and keep some distance as she pulled up short. George looked over his shoulder at her. "Can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

It was a miracle the castle was dark because Wren was sure her face was scarlet. Instead she settled on a scowl as she yanked her hands back. "A little warning would be nice," she hissed, and George's smile grew as he turned back around, brushing aside a tapestry. He drew a large arc with his wand against the stone, and as if he'd just drawn a doorway, the stones in the center vanished, allowing them passage through the wall. George started in and Wren went to follow when he pulled up short again.

"As a warning, the passage is like 50 meters and then there's a staircase. I'll be stopping to go down the staircase."

Wren glared at him. "That's actually helpful to know, thank you." she snapped lightly, and George grinned, disappearing through the dark doorway and Wren followed.

The tapestry swung closed behind the pair, leaving the passageway completely dark until both students illuminated their wands. It was a fairly straightforward passageway, no choices for turn offs and pleasantly wide enough and tall enough for them to easily walk through. As she always did, Wren wondered how the twins had managed to find this passage and go to class and have friends and do homework and work on their secret projects and manage Quidditch practice along with all of the other routine survival tasks wizards and witches did every day. If she had to guess, the two sacrificed a lot of sleep. And good marks in their classes.

"You might be happy to know that the hard part is sneaking out. Coming back in should be a breeze," George said from ahead of her. His voice was still soft, but it was above a whisper, and the fact that he felt comfortable raising his voice put Wren a bit at ease.

"I'm worried you're lying to me."

"When have I _ever_ lied to you, Wren? Or anyone for that matter?" Despite her certainty that there had been a time, she could not, at the present, name one. George took her silence for what it was: an acquiescence.

"The beauty of it is that tonight's Astronomy for sixth years. They'll be gone past one, and we can just come back in with them."

It was rather ingenious.

The two grew quiet once more as they drew nearer to the staircase, the sounds of their footsteps lightly echoing against the stones. It was on the fourth wraparound that Wren spoke.

"So, where are we going?" Wren asked, gathering her bag up into her arms to keep it from bouncing against her leg any more.

George looked up at her from his lower stair. "The forest."

"The forest?" Wren repeated.

"I know. I had half a thought to leave without you. You've been known to do some impulsive things in forests," George quipped turning back around to watch where he was going. "Last time I brought you into one--"

"I thought we agreed we didn't need to talk about that," Wren said, her voice high and tight.

"I don't remember making any such agreement," George shrugged with a cheeky grin.

"Well let's agree to it now," she huffed.

"Alright, I promise to only bring it up around those who already know."

"Who already knows?" Wren asked, her voice taking on a panicked quality. George shushed her.

"Just you, me, Nora, Fred, and Ginny. Lucky for you it's a tight circle."

"Don't bring it up around Nora and Fred. Fred will just tease me mercilessly about it and Nora will use it to get on my case about Simon."

"Not a fan of his?" George asked, his voice taking on a careful quality.

Wren went quiet. It was hard to explain the depth of Nora's detest. Even Wren wasn't exactly sure what had happened between her boyfriend and her cousin. It had happened slowly over time going from polite greetings to faces pulled behind the other's back and now snide little remarks.

Wren had asked Nora once why she didn't like Simon and she'd given her a litany of reasons (his friends, how he always had to have the answer, his strong opinions), but none of them seemed to make sense as THE reason.

When she'd asked Simon the same question he'd shrugged it off as Nora's problem.

"They don't get along. They're quite different."

George snorted and Wren glared. "What?"

"Bit of an understatement is all," he shrugged. Still suspicious, Wren decided to let it slide as the end of the stairs came within sight.

"So, you agree? Not to bring it up anymore? To anyone?"

"Thought I still had Ginny."

"George!"

"Fine. I agree," his lips curled up into a teasing smile. "Which you should know is a huge sacrifice. You're wonderfully fun to tease about this."

Wren ignored him, hopping down the last step and George led the rest of the way out of the castle in quiet.

When the pair emerged from the castle, it was from under a bush. George reached up and pushed at the bush's trunk, swinging it over to the side so he could scramble out. He reached out a hand to Wren and pulled her out. Wren dusted herself off as George put the bush back before nodding with his head to the left.

Wren felt fairly grateful that when George said "the forest" he didn't mean "in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. They tramped along just at the edge of the forest, the castle remaining visible the entire time. It seemed there were some places even Weasley Twins recognized were forbidden for a reason.

A blue glow up ahead gave away the celebration's spot. As they grew closer, Wren could hear Alicia giving orders to Lee and Katie, and the soft hum of music playing.

"Who's that?" Katie asked above the noise, and all sounds silenced.

"Just us," George called out as he and Wren entered into the small clearing.

It was gorgeous. Small lanterns hung from the trees, luminescent purple, blue, white, and yellow flowers filling each.

Bottles of Butterbeer, Prosecco, and Firewhiskey were gathered on a large stump draped with a purple table cloth.

The music was coming from a small radio placed at the foot of the stump.

At the moment, Lee was looking up at them from where he was bent over a small pile of firewood. Alicia stood over him, rubbing at her arms while Katie finished tying a purple _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ banner with shimmering gold letters between two trees.

"Hey," Lee grinned before turning back to lighting the fire. His features contorted in concentration and then a small smark appeared

"Got it!"

"You would have gotten in three minutes ago if you'd just said the bloody spell," Alicia muttered, stepping around him and the fire to come up to Wren and George. "Well, what do you think? Think she'll like it?" she asked, rubbing her hands together. It was difficult to tell if it was her nerves or the cold that inspired the action.

"I can't believe you did this all in fifteen minutes," Wren said, looking around to admire the set up once more.

Alicia shrugged sheepishly. "I may have forced Katie and Lee to leave a little earlier."

Wren felt the bag lift from her shoulder and turned as George took both of the snacks and followed Lee to the fallen tree draped with a tablecloth.

"I don't know if anyone can undo what Lee did and make her love birthday parties again, but this has to come pretty close."

"I hope so," Alicia said, turning to watch Fred and Lee lay out the snacks. Lee took his wand from his pocket and pointed it towards the bag. "Oi! No wands, Jordan!"

He looked back at her with a cheeky grin and slipped it back into his pocket before bending over to take the snacks out.

There wasn't much to set up after that. Alicia, Katie, and Lee had done much of the work so that by the time the telltale rustle and snapping of branches could be heard, all of them were sitting on logs, eagerly waiting for Angelina to appear.

Fred came through first, grinning ear to ear, before revealing Angelina looking rather exasperated behind him. The look vanished from her face with one look around the fire at her beaming friends and the whimsical little clearing.

"Oh," she said softly. She seemed to lose her grasp on words as she looked around, blinking rapidly. Alicia let out an excited squeal and launched herself towards Angelina, throwing her arms around her. Katie was not far behind.

"You like it, then?" Alicia asked, pulling back to look at Angelina who was still being rocked side to side by Katie.

"Yes," Angelina nodded, smiling, and the joy was evident in every ounce of Alicia's being. She swiveled to face the rest of the group and twirled a finger in the air.

"Butterbeer all around!"

The last time Wren had been to a birthday party that was this much fun, she had been eight. Her parents had gotten a host of magical creatures and miniaturized them so she had her own petting zoo for the afternoon. She and Nora had gone through and named each one and created a backstory, personality, and relationships between the creatures. In the end, Wren's mother brought out a cake that Aunt Kathleen had made and the family sat around eating cake and sharing stories.

It had been intimate and grand.

Which was exactly how Wren would describe Angelina's birthday party. Although the sweet naivete of a child's petting zoo was definitely lacking as they had each taken to keeping Angelina continuously supplied with firewhiskey. After all, there was no class tomorrow.

This was the same excuse Wren used when stealing her own shots of the burning liquor, throwing them back as she watched George spin Katie around to the music as Lee attempted to dance with a more than slightly tipsy Angelina.

Next to Wren, a body sank down and she looked up to find Fred, holding a bottle of firewhiskey by its neck. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Very much," Wren said, twisting her shot glass into the soft earth so that it didn't tip over. "It's a good break from all that," she said, flailing a hand towards the castle.

Fred let out a low laugh. "The professors have been _particularly_ dragon-like recently."

Wren let out an amused exhale. "And there's the tournament and just all of life at Hogwarts," she shrugged. "It's nice to get away from it for a few hours."

"Not to ruin that," Fred said, and Wren had the distinct feeling that he was, in fact, about to ruin it. "But I did mean to tell you that Charlie sent back a letter, and he will _not_ be giving us any of his hair. For some reason, he doesn't trust us."

Wren laughed and hung her head, shaking it before turning her attention back to meet Fred's gaze. She could see the fire flicker in his eyes making them shine a bit more. "I can't imagine why."

"Beats me," he shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You'd think we'd done something terrible to him before, like put itching powder in his clothes right before he went out for a date in Hogsmeade."

Wren clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter as Fred's grin grew. Once she felt moderately under control, she dropped her hand. "Well, I think we'll be close enough even without the hair."

"Careful Collings, that sounds dangerously close to confidence."

"Guess your plan is working then," Wren smiled, absentmindedly twisting the shot glass once more.

Fred looked back to the fire and their dancing friends, and Wren followed suit. Alicia had stolen Angelina away from Lee to dance with her and Katie, and Lee and George were amusing themselves, pulling out embers from the fire and making them dance or explode into little tiny fireworks. "They usually do."

* * *

If Wren had known what the week leading up to Halloween would look like, she might have tried convincing Alicia to push back Angelina's birthday party to this week. Although, if she had succeeded, she probably wouldn't have been the best of company. And George probably would have had to pry her work from her hands and carry her out of the common room.

So maybe it was best that they'd had the party on Friday.

Still, the tension within the walls of Hogwarts was bordering near unbearable. Not just from the short-tempered professors and the mountains of homework, but the impending test to see if Wren could really create a potion that outsmarted Dumbledore.

She, Fred, George, and Lee had finally settled on a variant that they felt confident would work. (A variant which included no human hair despite the fact that Lee had been able to get some of his father's hair, no questions asked.) Still, Wren continued to double check and triple check her equations and ingredients. _No trips to the Hospital Wing._ The small mantra rang throughout her head as she made her way to class, checking off her list of measurements.

A hand gripped Wren by the inside of the elbow, tugging her to the side of the hallway. Instinctively she yanked her arm away, whirling on the person who grabbed her. Simon stood with a look of amused confusion.

"Did I scare you?"

"Yes," Wren breathed out, clutching her books tighter, pressing her notes into her chest.

"Sorry," he grinned, looking anything but.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, and Wren checked over her shoulders at the rapidly clearing hallways. "I don't have long, I'm running late to Herbology."

The grin slid off of his face as he studied hers. "I haven't seen you in over a week."

Wren shook her head and turned to start heading to Herbology. "I know. I'm sorry. I've just been busy."

"Too busy for your boyfriend?" The words came out light, but Wren could hear the line of tension underneath them. She could feel it radiating from his presence next to her as he walked her out to the lawn.

"Too busy to breathe, really," Wren said offering a quick, frazzled smile.

Simon was frowning at her. Not quite anger, not quite concern. More of a disappointment than anything else. "What's got you too busy to breathe?"

Wren shook her head, shrugging. "Sixth year."

"Sixth year?" he repeated, and Wren nodded. "That's it."

"Yes. You were right; it's crushing."

Simon let out an angry sigh and stopped suddenly in his tracks. Despite the fact that the greenhouse was in sight and Professor Sprout had been docking points for tardy students for the first time ever, Wren slowed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with my girlfriend and getting one word answers," Simon said, gesturing at her. "You're not still mad at me about the potion are you?"

"No," Wren shook her head. "I just need to go."

He raised a hand to his brow and rubbed it, letting out an angry exhale. "I don't understand why you're punishing me for trying to help you."

"What? No. I'm just busy--"

"Busy for a week and a half?" He interrupted, raising both his eyebrows.

Wren shrugged. "Yes. You know what it's like. You have weeks like this."

"Don't turn this back on me," he argued.

"Simon--" A bell tolled, alerting students they were officially late to class. Wren winced. "I have to go."

"Fine. Go. You've made it clear I'm not a priority, so carry on." Simon gestured to the greenhouse, and Wren shook her head, reaching out for his hand.

"It's not like that--"

"Maybe I'll see you later, if I'm worth your time," Simon said, snatching his hand away from Wren's and turning back up the hill.

Wren breathed in sharply, taking a moment to compose herself and blink back the tears before turning around and heading to the greenhouse. Quietly, she opened the backdoor and shuffled to her place next to Fred.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Ms. Collings," Professor Sprout admonished from the front. Wren nodded, keeping her head down and fixated on the glowing blue plant in front of her.

Fred bumped her shoulder with his own. "You ok?" he whispered.

Wren nodded, giving him a quick glance. His warm brown eyes were fixated on her face, his mouth tugged down with concern. It made it harder not to cry.

So, she looked back down at the plant and gave a halfhearted smile. "Fine."

* * *

She couldn't believe the day was here.

The past week seemed to have passed by in a blur. One moment she was agreeing to make the potion with Fred, George, and Lee. Then it was Angelina's birthday party, the final day of classes the other week, and the arrival of the other schools.

When they found out that Impartial Judge was the Goblet of Fire and that all Dumbledore was doing to assure participants were of age was drawing an age line, she was certain she would burst.

It was the best possible scenario, especially since Charlie turned down the twins' requests for some hair. There were only so many failsafes someone could put into an age-line versus layered complex enchantments on the cup itself.

This could work.

This could really work.

When the four of them had brewed the potion last night, none of them could keep from grinning. Compared to the mess of figuring that part out, getting selected seemed a breeze.

Yet, in spite of obstacle after obstacle being overcome, Wren couldn't shake the feeling of anxiousness that buzzed through her. And that was why she sat alone in the common room while the rest had all gone down to the entrance hall to watch prospective champions enter. She decided that she'd simply wait up here to hear how it went. If it worked, the boys would be leading a triumphant parade back. And if it didn't...she didn't want to see it.

"Angelina told me I might find you here," Fred said, dropping into the seat across from her. "Said you were too nervous to come down."

Wren's cheeks grew warm. She wished she wasn't such an obvious read. Especially when it came to her nerves. She was in Gryffindor and nervous about someone else taking a risk. It didn't make any sense.

"Unfortunately, your presence has specifically been requested by myself, George, and Lee, so you're going to have to come."

She snorted. "Is that how it works?"

"That's precisely how it works," Fred said, leaning back in his chair and looking at her with an amused smile. "But I am glad to have caught you here because I also wish to collect."

Wren tilted her head. "Collect?"

"You owe me, Wren Collings," Fred said, meaningfully as if that were enough to clear it up.

"I believe _you_ owe _me_ ," Wren said, crossing her arms.

"Ah, fair point," Fred said, taking a piece of candy from his pocket and handing it over. Wren took it. "Now I've paid up, and you owe me."

Wren's eyes furrowed a bit and she offered the candy back. Fred held out a hand to stop her. "Nope, I want equal payment for services rendered."

"What are you on about?"

He turned to look at her with eyebrows raised and an expression that made her stomach twist. “You owe me a kiss.”

“I—” Wren started and he cut her off.

“I also helped to pull Nora to the trees. I just wasn’t _first_ because I had to make sure Ginny didn’t run after the other lot. And George's been holding it over my head for while so…” Fred puckered his lips and Wren laughed in spite of herself.

“Absolutely not.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a quick one; no one's around for a show.“

“No,” Wren shook her head, the smile slowly fading. “Because that other one--it was just an act of irrepressible gratitude.”

“Interesting because it _looked_ rather like a kiss."

She shook her head again as if he'd missed it the first time. "No, I just wasn't thinking. I mean my head was completely gone. One moment I thought we were going to die, and then we didn't and--"

"You don't have to explain," Fred said, holding out a hand for her to take. Wren slipped her hands on his, and he squeezed it reassuringly. "You just have to bestow an act of irrepressible gratitude on me," he grinned. Wren snatched her hand back as he laughed out loud.

"Shove off," Wren snapped lightly, standing up from the table. Fred stopped laughing as he joined her, walking towards the portrait hole. They had just exited when Wren spun on him again. "None of the jokes in front of anyone else, ok? I don't want--I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea and then...it didn't mean anything and I--"

"Don't hurt yourself, Wren," Fred said with a shake of his head as he led the way down to the Great Hall. "It'll stay between us."

* * *

There was a small cheer from their friends when Wren appeared behind Fred. Everyone else had their eyes fixated on the cup which stood in the center of a glowing golden circle. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger hovered near their little group, each looking rather skeptically at George and Lee.

"Ready then?" Fred asked, clapping Lee on the shoulder.

"Who's going first?" Lee asked, looking between the two twins.

"I'll go," Fred said, pulling a slip of parchment from his parchment with his name and Hogwarts scribbled on it. He walked slowly up to the line and paused just before it. Wren's eyes were glued on him as he took a deep breath and then stepped over the line. Her mouth dropped open and George let out a triumphant yell and jumped in after Fred.

And then it went wrong.

A loud sizzling sound echoed around the Entrance Hall and then both of the twins were flying out of the circle, crashing into the stone floor. Wren lurched towards them, stopped only by Angelina's arm looped through hers. Then, there was a loud _pop_ and Fred and George had each grown identical white beards, long enough to rival Dumbledore's.

Everyone laughed. Lee was bent over clutching at his middle, Katie was wheezing like she couldn't breathe, and even Hermione was giggling loudly. The twins stood up, brushing themselves off and upon one look at each other broke out into laughter as well.

Wren didn't laugh though.

"I did warn you," said a deep voice laced with amusement. The whole hall turned to see Professor Dumbledore emerge from the Great Hall, his eyes on Fred and George. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred turned to Wren and wiggled his eyebrows at her, but she still couldn't bring herself to smile.

Because she had sent them to the hospital wing.


End file.
